


don’t get attached

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Force Sensitivity, Hurt/Comfort, Kix is a Good Bro, M/M, Past Abuse, Post-Episode: s04e07 Darkness on Umbara, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Umbara (Star Wars), Umbara is a Spooky Place, clone feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22093519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “You got a hobby, Rex?”Skywalker really sucked at distracting. If there was an award for “worst distraction of all time” he would win. A squelch sounded behind him, followed by a sharp, burning pain and Rex gave a muffled scream, biting into the back of his hand to silence himself. Once he caught his breath, he opened his eyes to glare at his general. “Do I look like I have a hobby, sir?”
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-21-0408 | Echo/CT-27-5555 | Fives | ARC-5555, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, CT-7567 | Rex/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 402
Kudos: 957





	1. don’t

“Is that an order, General?” 

“Does it need to be?”

The threat in the tone was unmistakable, and Rex shoved down the anger and rage that surfaced. He hadn’t known this Jedi for long, but he wasn’t like any General Rex had ever had. Sure, all of them had been controlling and demeaning, but this man was taking it to the next level. He was old, very old, yet he wasn’t on the council, merely one of the faceless knights that he hadn’t cared to identify. All Jedi were the same.

“Of course not, sir.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, barely containing a sneer when the General turned away. If he followed through with this, so many people would die, maybe even his whole battalion. Jedi cared nothing for clones, that Rex was certain of. He had the scars to prove it. 

Fives looked up hopefully when he approached and Rex swallowed down the nausea. 

_I’ve failed them._

“Well?” Fives asked. 

Rex didn’t look at him, staring out at the battlefield before them. “We’re to continue to the objective.” The clones scattered around them all froze, disbelief on the faces helmetless, while the helmeted ones tilted their heads in confusion. Fives face was pale.

“Rex… that’s suici-”

“That’s an order.” Rex interrupted, trying to convey with his eyes that it wasn’t him, that he would never do something as foolish as they were about to do, but it must have went unnoticed. Fives’ expression hardened, cramming his bucket on a little _too_ aggressively, shouldering past him angrily. “Then I’ll see you on the other side, _Captain_.”

Rex winced slightly, resisting the urge to yell and scream and _fight_ , instead turning to the men around him. “Saddle up, boys. Time to earn our keep.”

* * *

The squeal of the bombs drowned out the screams of the wounded, their pained wails mercifully blocked from the ears of the men who were still fighting, something Rex was thankful for. Fives was somewhere ahead of him, but the smoke was too thick to see. “Rex to all troopers, check in.”

Static.

A bolt of fear coursed through him and he hunkered down more closely to the upturned tank, unable to stop his voice from shaking when he commed them again. “I repeat, _all_ troopers check in, this is your captain.”

A garbled voice tried to patch through, cutting in and out, and Rex swore when it finally went dead. This was a slaughterhouse, not a battle. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and their communications were jammed. It was hopeless. “Rex to all troopers, _get out of there_. Retreat, that’s an order.”

Nothing.

Biting back a frustrated scream, Rex carefully peered out of his cover, jumping back when a blaster bolt whipped by his helmet. He grit his teeth, clenching his fists and holstering his blasters, eyeing the fallen tree a few yards away. He could make it. 

With a renewed burst of adrenaline, Rex bolted, his feet slipping slightly on something wet as he ran before catching himself, sliding to a stop behind the tree just as a volley of blasters were fired. His legs were sprayed with blood. Gagging slightly, he hurriedly felt down his legs, finding no comfort in realizing the blood wasn’t his. 

He heard a scream to his right and he turned, crouching on the balls of his feet and swiveling to face the sound. The now dead trooper stared back at him, his bucket long gone, his eyes dim and lifeless as blood oozed from a neck wound. Swallowing harshly, Rex carefully lifted his head, peering into the darkness, trying to catch sight of any of his men. The battle had quieted, an eerie silence falling over the bloodied landscape. Taking a deep breath, Rex took a silent step forward before sprinting to where the dead trooper had been crouched. 

He grunted as he knee connected with something hard and he looked down, freezing upon seeing the dirtied armor below him. Rex scrambled back, his eyes widening at the sight of another trooper, who stared back, equally frightened. “Are you okay?” Rex asked, trying to scan the clone for injuries but it was hopeless in their position. The clone’s helmet was off, and Rex was glad he didn’t recognize the shiny. The trooper frowned, and Rex caught sight of the trickle of blood coming from the man’s ears. 

“I can’t hear you, sir.” His tone was shaky, scared, and his breaths came hard and fast. Rex lifted a hand, trying to stifle the kids panic, but the trooper flinched back.“I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you, _I can’t hear you_ -” A brilliant flash of red blinded Rex before he even registered what happened, the sound of a squelch and a choked scream sounding distant.

The trooper had been sniped. He had been _right there._ Rex stared in disbelief for a moment, looking down at the mess that now covered him, his once white armor now completely covered with dirt and blood. His brain finally registered that he should move, and his body obeyed, crawling away from the other clone to a hastily built barrier someone had constructed. There were no bodies there, at least none that he could see, and he let out a shaky breath, trying his comm again. “This is Rex, a-anyone receiving?”

Just as he predicted, no one answered. It was quiet, too quiet, and Rex scanned the area surrounding him. He couldn’t be the only one left, that was- that was _impossible._ Others had to be laying low, hiding, just like him. They needed to retreat, to regroup and get the hell out of there. The only way his men would know would be to tell them face-to-face, but that was impossible. The Seps were killing anything that moved. 

Rex inhaled deeply, letting the silence comfort him from a moment before he stood, his resolve steady. “501st!” A bullet missed his head by inches. He forced himself to stay still. “This is your captain! I order you to retreat! _Retreat!_ ” For a moment silence once again enveloped the area surrounding him before another blaster was shot. And another. And another. Shapes started to appear through the smoke, coming towards him at an alarming rate, and he realized with startling clarity that it was his men. At least two dozen, all sprinting and firing, and Rex waited until the last one passed him before joining them, his adrenaline forcing his wobbly knees to carry him farther from the front line and towards the troop carriers. 

His troops started to slow the closer they got, until they were trotting at a comfortable pace, their breaths ragged and rough even through their helmets. Rex couldn’t stop the torrent of guilt and despair that flooded him. They’d lost so many, and the troops he had left were slim to none. The 501st would never be the same.

And it had only taken one day.

* * *

The General wasn’t happy to see them.

That was the first thing Rex noticed. It didn’t matter that he was covered in the blood of his brothers, didn’t matter that the remaining troopers were exhausted beyond belief. To the Jedi, _they_ didn’t matter. And Rex didn’t know why that bothered him so much. They all crowded onto the carrier, one by one, their heads down and blasters clutched close, their Jedi studying them with a cold gaze. 

Rex enjoyed the look of surprise that briefly crossed the man’s face when no one else boarded the ship. “Where are the rest of your men?” His tone sounded more agitated than truly upset, and Rex just… _snapped._ He heard one of his brothers murmur something, maybe a comfort, but he ignored it, his fists clenched tightly as he took an accusing step forward. 

“They’re _your_ men, General. _Yours._ And you killed them.” His chest was heaving, his head throbbing, and he barely glanced at the person who grabbed his arm- _Fives,_ he registered vaguely- wrenching his arm from their grip. “You want to know where they are?” He was pushing it now, he could tell. The Jedi’s face was quickly morphing in anger, his eyes alight with a deep, burning hatred, one that Rex rivaled with his own. Rex gestured down to the blood and bits of flesh coating his armor, taking another step forward. “There they are, _General_ .” He hissed, his throat tightening with pain and anger. Fives was next to him again, talking in low tones, trying to calm him down, but Rex was having none of it. He let his brother pull him back, but before the Jedi could speak, Rex interrupted. “You Jedi are liars,” he hissed, tears spilling down his cheeks, and he was grateful that his helmet hid it. “Because I know what you really are.” They had everyone’s attention now, even the pilot’s, who was trying to fly _and_ listen. “You’re a bunch of _murderers_.”

Rex had seen plenty of Jedi angry before, especially all the Jedi he’d been assigned to, but nothing compared to the rage and fury in his General’s eyes. “And for that, _clone_ ,” The Jedi strode forward, ripping Rex from Fives grasp and dragging him to the supply room in the back, his grip tight and painful. Rex fought and kicked, ignoring the small part of him that whispered to submit, to obey, to be a _good little soldier._ “You will die.”

Fives helmet was now off, his eyes wide and fearful, same as the rest of the clones in the carrier. Rex’s heart was pounding, nausea bubbling in his throat as he was thrown into the room, his back colliding with the crates at the back. The Jedi closed the door behind him, his eyes glowing harshly in the dim lighting. “How dare you disrespect me.” He hissed, coming to stand above him, the hilt of his lightsaber glinting dangerously. 

Rex was so tired, but he forced himself to stand, if not for himself then for all the dead _vod_ they’d just left behind. “How dare you kill my brothers.” He spat, staring up defiantly, which he soon realized was a bad move. His helmet was knocked off with such force that it winded him, and he had no time to catch his breath before the next blow fell. And the next. And the next.

And somewhere in all of that, between the punches and kicks and force tricks that he couldn’t even begin to fathom, Rex just stopped. Stopped fighting, stopped caring, stopped _trying._

He found the floor wasn’t so cold after all.

* * *

Anakin watched carefully as the troop carrier landed, grimacing as he caught sight of the meager amount of clones inside. 

“I take it the battle on Agamar didn’t go as planned.” Obi-Wan mused, regarding the troops sadly. Anakin nodded, walking forward to try to help some of the clones down, noticing how they flinched back and watched him strangely, as if they didn’t know what he was doing. Anakin looked up as he saw Jedi Knight Korvas scowling, his signature in the force darkened and troubled. “Is everything alright, Master Korvas?” Anakin asked, confused when the Jedi became even angrier. 

The man didn’t answer, instead stepping from the ship and barking a few orders to his clones, who hurriedly nodded and got to work. Anakin glanced back at Obi-Wan, who was frowning. “Korvas,” Kenobi called, making the man turn back with a glare. “Shouldn’t your men be resting? They just fought a hard battle.” The troopers paused from where they’d grabbed crates of supplies, staring between the two uneasily. Their armor was stained with blood and dirt, and a few limped slightly as they walked, which Anakin found greatly disturbing. He hadn’t been assigned a battalion yet, but he was pretty sure he would at least treat them with human decency. 

“They’re fine.” Korvas bit out, turning to storm back towards the temple. 

Obi-Wan waited until the man disappeared before approaching the clones, who watched him with wary eyes. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my padawan, Anakin Skywalker.” The troopers looked at Obi-Wan then Anakin, blinking as if they didn’t understand what they wanted. “I’d like to know your names, if I may.” Obi-Wan said gently. “You fought very bravely from what I hear.”

They all looked at each other, and Anakin could feel their unease in the force. Finally, a trooper stepped forward, saluting smartly. “CT-27-5555, at your service.”

“Your name, not your number.” Anakin elaborated. The trooper looked shocked, glancing back at the other men before awkwardly clearing his throat. 

“It’s- It’s Fives, sir.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Fives.” Obi-Wan said happily, his eyes going to the next trooper in line. 

“Echo.”

“Denal.”

The names continued until they went through every man, which wasn’t many, and Anakin noticed the one called Fives glancing back at the carrier. “Everything alright, Fives?”

Fives flinched, glancing at the Temple as if making sure no one else was watching, getting a firm nudge in the back from Echo. “Yes sir, just a little edgy.” Echo looked pained for a moment at his brother’s response before his expression cleared. “Permission to carry on, Generals?”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan agreed, smiling at the men before following Anakin to the troop carrier. “And what, my young friend, are we doing here?”

Anakin hesitated, reaching out into the force as he examined first the cockpit then the main holding bay. “Just… a feeling.” He muttered, furrowing his brow as he caught sight of a door. “I’ll be along shortly, Obi-Wan, go ahead and go on, I’ll catch up.”

His old master nodded before disappearing. Anakin had to squint as the door swished open, the dark room smelling of blood and gore. He wrinkled his nose slightly, about to leave before he caught sight of it. A small patch of white, sharply in contrast to the dark shadows. He crept forward carefully, freezing when he finally realized what it was. A clone. A _very_ injured one. 

His armor was stained beyond recognition, covered in blood and gore and dirt, his helmet not in much better shape, laying hazardously to the side. Carefully, slowly, Anakin knelt, rolling the clone onto it’s back and wincing at the bruises and blood covering its face. His hand hovered uncertainly over its chest. He had no idea how he was still alive, especially in the condition he was in, and Anakin had just been ready to call for a medic when the trooper woke with a gasp.

His eyes were golden, hazy with pain as he stared up at the roof of the carrier, his breath coming in wheezes. Then he tensed, turning and seeing Anakin next to him, making a small, choked noise in the back of his throat. “Easy, easy, you’re okay.”

The bitterness and fear that emanated from the clone was overwhelming, and Anakin recoiled his hand when the clone flinched at the touch. “Easy,” Anakin said softly, if not for the clone then for himself, and he looked down at the bloodied armor, smiling slightly when he realized the clone’s rank. “Captain.”

The Captain looked up at that, his eyes full of mistrust and fear, before he opened his mouth, trying to talk but only succeeding in a whimper. “Hey, it’s okay, I promise. I’m gonna go get you some help, okay? You’ll be fine.”

Anakin was true to his word, and the medic arrived surprisingly fast, practically shoving past him to drop to his knees next to the Captain. “Oh, Rex…” The medic whispered, and Anakin startled slightly. 

“You know him?”

The medic tensed slightly but nodded, rummaging through his bag and producing an oxygen mask. “We’re in the same battalion. He’s my Captain.”

It was obvious they were close by the way the medic whispered reassurances softly, speaking a language Anakin had no chance of understanding. 

“K-Kix.” The Captain- Rex- gasped, blood bubbling past his lips and he coughed, splattering his already soiled armor even more. Kix smiled softly, wincing apologetically as he carefully wiped dried blood from Rex’s face, making him flinch. 

Anakin was at a loss, wanting to help but not knowing how. Kix noticed. “I can handle it from here, General, thank you.”

He blinked slightly at the protective tone before nodding, slowly shuffling back. Anakin inhaled deeply once in the open, leaving the smell of death behind. He found that by the time he caught up with Obi-Wan, he’d forgotten all about the clone.

* * *

The battle of Agamar was one of the greatest military disasters they had on record, Anakin thought grimly. It had been weeks since Korvas’ failed attempt to siege the outpost, and the Senate was growing restless once again, pushing to send out more troops, and ironically, the Council agreed. And they’d volunteered Anakin to lead, with a very enthusiastic agreement from Korvas.

He was ecstatic, truly, but he still remembered the haunted looks on the clone’s faces, how angry Korvas had been. Korvas had received more than a few dirty looks since his failure, and Anakin almost felt sorry for the man. Almost. 

He was currently on his way to meet his new battalion, and he couldn’t hold back the nervous energy that raced through him. Would they be battle hardened veterans or inexperienced newbies? He hoped for the former. The door to the hangar slowly lifted, revealing the neat row of troopers lined carefully beyond, the blue proudly displayed in various places on their armor. 

“Sir, 501st battalion, at your service.” The captain saluted smartly, not looking Anakin in the eye, something that made Anakin frown slightly. 

“Hey, don’t I know you?” He asked, a smirk taking over his features. “You’re… _Fives!_ ” The captain looked surprised for a moment before nodding, obviously uncomfortable. 

“Yes sir.”

Anakin’s eyes drifted to the medic a little off to the right. “Kix?”

“The one and only.” Kix sassed, ignoring Fives, who looked horrified and hurried to apologize. 

“I’m so sorry, sir. He just doesn’t think, it’s nothing and I’ll-“

“Fives,” Anakin laughed, clapping a hand down on his shoulder, not missing the flinch. “it’s okay, I like troopers who aren’t afraid to speak their mind. It’s honestly okay, that goes for all of you.” He raised his voice so he could be heard, recognizing Echo in the crowd, and Denal. “You’re my troopers now, and I want you to be comfortable with me.”

They looked tense, glancing at one another warily before straightening once more. Anakin sighed but tried not to let it irritate him. He just had to get them to warm up to him. He suddenly remembered. “Hey, didn’t you guys have a different captain? Captain Rex?”

Fear flashed across Fives face for a split second before it was gone, and he cleared his throat. “Rex is being… evaluated, at the moment, sir.”

Anakin frowned. “Evaluated?” 

* * *

Rex sighed softly, leaning back to let his head thump against the cold stone wall behind him. The cell was boring, the usual grey, cold interior they all had. He hadn’t expected anything different, really. He closed his eyes, biting his lip hard to ground himself. He was to be culled today, he knew because he’d heard the men talking, the same men that had questioned him. 

_“So tell me, CT-7567, are you angry?”_

_“My_ **_name_ ** _is Rex.”_

 _“Are you angry,_ **_Rex_ ** _?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Why?”_

_“My brothers are dead.”_

_“Well, that is your job-”_

Rex winced at the memory, remembering how he’d seen red, had lunged for the man only to be stunned by the guards. He certainly hadn’t helped his case any. He was so sick of being nothing, of being a _number_ , and for once in his life he’d stood up for himself, for his _vod,_ and now here he was. 

The sound of footsteps suddenly startled him from his thoughts and he rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted right now was company. Closing his eyes, Rex focused on the nausea roiling in his gut, focused on the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. They hadn’t even given him a clean set of clothes, leaving him in the bloodied, sweaty blacks he’d fought the battle in. 

The footsteps grew closer before they stopped. Rex waited a few moments, a sigh slipping past his chapped lips before he opened his eyes. A Jedi stared back, and he vaguely recognized it as the one that had found him. They regarded each other silently, both sizing the other up before another Jedi stepped forward. Rex knew him to be Mace Windu and he straightened dramatically. Every clone knew who to fear and who to pick at, and Windu was definitely one you feared.

“Are you sure about this, Skywalker? He’s got a nasty record.”

Skywalker looked him over slowly, his eyes drifting down before meeting Rex’s gaze again, almost challengingly. Rex growled lowly. Skywalker smirked. “I’m sure, Mace. He just needs a little love.” It was said sarcastically, and Rex bristled, flinching slightly when the ray shield was deactivated. 

Windu eyed him cautiously. “You’re his last chance. Remember that.” Then he was gone, leaving them alone. Rex met his gaze defiantly, frowning when Anakin laughed. 

“Oh, this’ll be fun.” He heard the Jedi mutter. Before he could stop himself he was speaking. 

“You gonna let me leave or what?”

Rex froze slightly, trying to gauge where Skywalker stood. He hadn’t been around him long enough to decide whether he was a “fear or mock” type, and he clenched his fists to stop their slight shake.

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Easy, Rex ol’ boy.” He soothed, his tone light and carefree. “C’mon, lets go, your men need you.”

Rex stood, following placatingly behind. He would play good for now, but the second Skywalker tried anything, Rex wouldn’t hesitate to bite back. Culling be damned.

* * *

“Rex!” Fives exclaimed happily, wrapping his brother in a hug and squeezing him tight. “I missed you, _vod_ , don’t ever do that again.”

Rex smiled, nodding before turning to Kix, who shook his head. “Not cool, _vod_ , I think Echo went into cardiac arrest.” 

Echo made a wounded noise before grinning, burying himself into his brother’s arms and inhaling deeply. “Missed you, Rex.” Rex chuckled slightly, playfully pushing him away. 

“Missed you too, _vod’ika_.”

A throat being cleared suddenly made him tense and he quickly detached himself from his brothers, straightening. “General Skywalker, I didn’t realize you were still here.” It was said with a touch of sarcasm, and Anakin smiled at the barb, which made Rex even more agitated.

“It’s fine, Rex. But we do need to get going.”

Rex nodded, cramming his bucket on and glancing down at his scrubbed armor. Fives leaned over to whisper while they walked to the transport. “Thanks god you’re Captain again, Rexy. Thought I was gonna have to be you for a minute there.”

Rex rolled his eyes, knocking his shoulder against Fives and enjoying the grunt it elicited. He glanced over at his General as they walked, eyes narrowed, thankfully hidden behind the helmet. Who did he think he was anyway? Calling Rex by his name? Letting them cut up and delay their departure? 

_Yeah, somethin’s definitely not right._

Rex thought that maybe it could be a test, but quickly dismissed it. They wouldn’t have even bothered, would’ve just sent them to Kamino for culling.

Skywalker was currently laughing with one of the younger troopers, his stance relaxed and open. Rex scowled, going to the farthest corner of the gunship and squatting down. The ride to Amagar was long, but he had a feeling it just got longer. ______________________________

Rex wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to be treated with respect. To be able to talk to someone without them addressing him as _soldier_ or _clone_ , to be able to hold a conversation about things other than war. But he _doesn’t_ know. And he doubts he ever will.

The gunship touches down roughly, a few shinies tottering at the unexpected movement, but Rex and the others only sway with the ship. They’ve done this too many times and know when to bend their knees, when to brace for the inevitable shudder of the craft touching down.

He shoves down the panic that floods him as he steps out into Amagar’s mist, dutifully following his General to the command tent. Fives and Echo have hesitated, and he turns to them quietly, glancing st Skywalker to gauge his reaction. The man doesn’t even turn. 

Satisfied, Rex leans close to them. “I’ll find you two later, go ahead and get some rest, you’ll need it.”

“Right away,” Fives salutes, a hint of teasing in his tone, and Rex shoves him away with a grin. 

“Captain?”

Rex almost stumbles as he walks over, clearing his throat when Skywalker gave him an amused look. “Sorry, sir.” He doesn’t try to stop the snide tone that slips out, and feels a swell of pride when Skywalker looks taken aback slightly. 

“That’s fine, Rex. Those are your men.”

Rex looked up sharply. He wished Skywalker would _stop_ saying that, would stop treating them as if they had a choice, as if they were actually Rex’s men. They weren’t. They, along with himself, were _Skywalker’s_ men, and Rex wouldn’t take the blame for their deaths like last time. He _couldn’t._

He didn’t get to respond to that before they were ushered into the command tent, an officer immediately starting to fill them in on the situation. “The Seperatists took advantage of their victory.” The clone said grimly. “They’ve advances to just eight clicks of our perimeter and are holding there in defensive stations. They don’t know of our shortage of troops or you, General Skywalker.”

General Skywalker hummed slightly, studying the holo intently, his lips pursed. Rex stayed quiet, his hands held neatly behind his back, staring down at the holo also. From what he could see, the Seperatists would be ready for any surprise attack they tried to launch, but if they weren’t aware of Skywalker? They _maybe_ had a chance of flanking them, allowing the General to attack from the front. 

_It’s bold, but it may work._

Skywalker finally glanced over at him, making Rex stiffen slightly. “I’d like to hear what my Captain thinks.”

All eyes turned to Rex, even the kriffing shinies in the corner, and his heart skipped a beat before starting at a sloppy pace. He hadn’t been prepared for this, hadn’t _expected_ it. His other Generals had _never_ done this to him, had only cared about how well he could shoot a blaster, and he was inexplicably unprepared. “I…” His voice broke slightly, even more noticeable through the helmets transmitter, and he sucked in a breath to steady himself. “They’ll be ready by now, so surprise is out of the question.” An officer’s eyes narrowed in confusion and Rex immediately fell silent, glancing at his Jedi carefully. 

Skywalker nodded encouragingly. “Go ahead, Rex.”

_Why is he calling me that?_

“Our best bet would be to outflank them,” he began again, albeit more softly and tentatively. “here and here.” He pointed to where the droids were less concentrated before pointing to the front lines. “General Skywalker could pose as a distraction while we move into position, and by the time they realize, it’ll be too late for them to regroup.”

It was silent, his General still beside him, and Rex grimaced. _Gods I’m so stupid._ Yeah, he’d blown it. They would never ask for his opinion again, and this would be his last battle as a Captain. He could see it now, him being demoted to a simple infantry trooper, mindlessly obeying every order he received. 

“That is… very thought out, Rex.” Skywalker said softly, nodding. “And it’s perfect, just the type of plan I like. Daring.” He clapped a hand down on Rex’s shoulder pauldron, causing Rex to stiffen again. “You’ll make me a good Captain yet.” He was smiling, something Rex had rarely seen a Jedi do, and it was so uncharacteristic that he could only stare stupidly. For once, he couldn’t sound snide or sarcastic at all, his heart skipping strangely at the praise.

“Uh, y-yes sir, I plan to.”

Skywalker nodded, releasing his shoulder and turning to walk further into the tent, rummaging through a bag. “You’re dismissed, Rex. Go get some rest, we leave at 0800.”

* * *

“What do you think of the General?”

“He’s obviously new, you see the way he called Rex by his name?”

The shiny looked surprised, turning to face Rex, who was stripping his armor to climb onto the narrow cot provided. “That true, sir?” Rex paused, unsure of how to answer before nodding. The troopers whistled softly, laughing amongst themselves. 

“He probably just doesn’t want to go to the trouble of remembering our numbers.”

More rambunctious laughter. Rex rolled his eyes, flopping onto his cot and facing the flimsy canvas of the tent’s wall. He closed his eyes, trying to relax enough to sleep. No such luck. He lay awake, long after the troopers finally wandered off to their cots, soft snores being the only noise besides the occasional sound of a patrolling trooper outside.

_“It’s perfect, just the type of plan I like. Daring.”_

Daring wasn’t good. Daring was what got people killed, what caused massacres if not careful. 

_“You’ll make me a good Captain yet.”_

Rex huffed slightly, trying to stop his excitement at finally being praised. It felt nice, actually, to feel like he’d _done_ something instead of being useless. He gave up on sleep, quietly sitting up and methodically putting his armor back on. The occasional trooper twitched as he passed, but remained asleep. Rex ducked under the tent flap, pausing slightly to get reacquainted with where everything was.

He relieved the trooper on duty, getting a thankful smile in return. Rex slid to the ground, his knees up slightly towards his chest as he stared out into the darkness. It was surreal, being here. Being _alive_ , while so many of his brothers hadn’t had the luxury. “I’m sorry, vod.” He whispered softly, his breath catching, his eyes watering slightly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” The dead would never hear it, but he had to say it, had to ease the burden he carried _somehow._ Rex slid his helmet off, inhaling deeply, letting his shoulders slump slightly. 

_Gods, I’m so tired._

A boot scuffing the dirt broke him from his misery and he sat up, tensing when the person stopped next to him. A glance to the right told him it was Skywalker, and he cursed himself for taking his helmet off. The General stayed standing for a moment longer before abruptly dropping, crossing his legs and staring into the void as well. Neither spoke. They didn’t have to.

An hour dragged by, and Rex found that if he tried hard enough he could block Skywalker out altogether. The man beside him seemed… distant, which was uncharacteristic for a General. He’d had it beat into him: to respect his Generals, so why did he want to defy this one so much? Why was it that every time the man so much as looked at him, Rex immediately put up his defenses? It irked him to no end.

“I’m sorry.”

Rex paused slightly at the admission, his gaze sliding from the darkness and settling on his General. Skywalker still wouldn’t look at him, gazing intently at nothing in particular. “I’m sorry that so many of your brothers were lost here. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

Rex didn’t respond immediately, trying to come up with an appropriate response and failing. He averted his attention back to the murky darkness, to the wisps of mist the curled gracefully across the ground. “There’s nothing you could’ve done to change the outcome, sir. It's what we were created for, remember?”

Skywalker finally turned to face him, and Rex followed suit. Rex had never seen blue eyes before. He’d heard of mutations within the ranks, but he’d never seen them in person. He studied them intently, the sky blue color never ceasing to amaze him. It’s the first thing he’d noticed about his General, after all. His own eyes were nothing special, a light brown, maybe a golden color in the right lighting, and he suddenly became self conscious, hurriedly tearing his gaze away and turning. 

Rex could feel his General’s sadness, the ache to reassure but not quite finding the right words. He was tempted to laugh, but thought it wouldn’t be the best time. 

“I don’t view you like that.” Skywalker said softly.

Rex narrowed his eyes, his normal bravado finally seeping back in. “Oh, really?”

And just like that, they were back at square one, with Rex defensive and Skywalker at a loss. His General huffed, rolling his eyes and standing, stretching leisurely and groaning when his bones creaked. And then he was gone.

Annoyance flared up inside him and Rex struggled to suppress it, growling and lurching to his feet. He didn’t have time to play Skywalker’s little game, didn’t believe his nice cop routine for a second. He had a battle to win, and he wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that. 

Let alone a general with a conscience.


	2. lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex is hesitant to trust his new General. Lucky for him, Cody is always there to slap the sense into him.

The battle is over. They _won_. 

So why does Rex feel like they lost?

Denal’s body is heavy, but it’s a burden Rex is willing to bear. He swore to himself that he would keep them safe, that he wouldn’t let anyone else fall on his watch, but the dead weight in his arms says otherwise. 

His plan had worked. The only casualties were a few unlucky shinies and Denal.

_Oh, Denal…_

Rex hurts. He hurts _so much_ , but it’s not physical, so he forces himself to continue carrying his brother’s body. He can’t leave it there. Not like he’d left the others all those weeks ago. 

He’s one of the last to stumble into camp, blood on his hands and dread in his heart. He gets the occasional glance, the sad glint in a trooper’s eyes as they recognize Denal- _no, the corpse-_ but they say nothing.

Rex comes to a halt outside of the medical tent, hearing Kix fussing about inside, but his feet refuse to move. Denal is so, so heavy. But Rex can’t bear the thought of putting him down. He finally, sluggishly, pushes into the cramped tent. All chatter immediately stops, troopers in varying degrees of pain pausing to look. Rex hates it. Denal would’ve hated it.

Kix is before him in an instant, face grim and eyes sad. “You can set him over there.” He points to a corner, where the other dead troopers are laid, a nice, neat line of sheet covered flesh. Rex tightens his hold on Denal. He can’t leave him there, not alone, forgotten amongst the piles of the dead. No, no he can’t, he would never-

“Rex?”

He looks up at his name as if in a haze, his HUD too bright for his eyes, and he wishes he could take off his helmet. But he can’t. Denal is still in his arms.

“Why don’t we set him over here,” Skywalker coaxes soothingly, his voice soft, caring, and something in Rex reacts to that. He listens, even when his mind screams at him to not leave his brother, to stay by his side, to protect him. His body is possessed, by who he doesn’t know. He lowers Denal slowly, carefully, not registering the awkward tilt to his brother’s neck, or the way his body has grown cold, unfamiliar. 

Rex’s arms are empty. But they’re still heavy. 

Skywalker is grabbing his arm, leading him away, and he makes a noise of protest, trying to twist out of the Jedi’s hold, and then Kix is in front of him again. His helmet is coming off, and he blinks quickly against the bright lights around him. He searches for Denal, but is quickly stopped when Kix snaps his fingers in his face.

“Rex? Can you hear me?”

Rex doesn’t answer, instead he stares at him. Of course he can hear, he’s not the one lying cold and dead a few feet away. No, Rex was always one of the lucky ones, always the survivor. 

Kix was shining something in his eyes, patting down his arms and sides before looking to someone behind Rex. “No injuries. Shock. He should be fine, just try to calm him down once he’s out of it.”

Someone’s grabbing his arm again, and Rex makes a noise of protest, taking a step towards Denal, but is quickly jerked outside. Panic, sharp and raw explodes through every nerve in his body and he reacts, pushing the person holding him and trying to go back to the tent. _Denal is there, alone, cold, hurt, Denal needed him, Denal-_

“Shhh, Rex, calm down.”

_Why is Skywalker here?_

He doesn’t want to calm down, doesn’t _need_ to, because he is calm. He’s- He’s…

A moment of startling clarity overcomes him and he stops. There’s blood on his hands and bile in his throat, and _god what an awful mixture that was._ He’s suddenly hit with an indescribable wave of grief, and it sends him to his knees. He’s nearly bent double, small gasps slipping past chapped lips, because _kriff,_ Denal… Denal wasn’t coming back home. 

Skywalker is crouched beside him, trying to coax him to go somewhere quieter, somewhere more private, but all he can feel is the blood on his hands and the dirt at his knees. 

_Why does he care?_

He needs- he needs his helmet, needs to be safe, needs to not let anyone see the mess he’s become, and he’s groping blindly for it, a small whine slipping past his lips before he can stop it. 

He vomits, his body convulsing up the little food he’d eaten, then he dry heaves, his throat aching and he lets out a mournful moan when he’s done.

_Please, just let me die with them._

His helmet is shoved on and he’s picked up. The movement is hurried, rushed, jarring Rex out of his grief stricken haze long enough to notice they’re going to _Skywalker’s_ tent. He can’t breathe, can’t focus long enough to even try to get his lungs to work, and he’s not aware that he’s holding his breath until Skywalker stops walking, reaches up, and punches him in the chest. _Hard._

He lets out a gasp of breath, dangerously close to becoming a sob, and then they’re moving again before finally, mercifully, entering the tent. He’s full on hyperventilating now, his chest racking with every breath he takes, and it really _shouldn't_ hurt to breathe.

“Rex, I need you to focus on my voice.”

But he can’t. All he can see is Denal, lying there on the ground, a bullet to the chest, can only hear his apology muttered past blood soaked lips. 

_“I’m sorry, Rex.”_

There’s a hand at his back, rubbing in soothing circles, and some part of him registers it, wants to obey its unspoken command to ‘relax, calm down, breathe’ but another part rebels.

_What is he doing?_

He doesn’t know how long he’s been whining, only notices when they start turning into high pitched keens, and that’s the moment that Skywalker finally takes off his helmet. He wants to turn his face away, because his General isn’t supposed to see this side of him, isn’t supposed to see the weak inferior that he’s become, but he doesn’t have the strength. All of his strength had died with Denal.

_Leave me alone, sir. Please._

Rex collapses onto the cot with a wheeze of breath, his eyes refusing to focus. He’s panicking, he knows he’s panicking, but he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“Rex,” The voice is firm, authoritative, and Rex immediately stiffens. “ _Breathe_.”

He’s _karking trying!_ Skywalker has a hand at his side, between the plating of armor, making gentle sweeps with his thumb, tracing an indistinct pattern onto Rex, and he subconsciously feels himself relaxing to it, even when a traitorous voice inside is screaming at him to reject it, to be disgusted by it. A shudder passes through him, the hand on his side pressing harder at the motion, and Rex swallows down the nausea that still threatens to overcome him. 

“You’re okay, there we go, just breathe.” Skywalker’s voice is soft, warm, and another involuntary shudder encases Rex’s frame. “You did good, Rex.”

_Why is he being so nice to me?_

No, no he hadn't. If he’d _done good_ , Denal would still be alive. 

“D-Denal,” he gasps out, his hands coming up to cover his face. “Oh gods, Denal.”

“Hey,” Skywalker tugs at his arm. “Shhh, its okay, it's going to be fine, Rex, just breathe for me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Rex chants, over and over, a prayer, a plea, “I'm so sorry, I’m so sorry, _I-I’m so sorry, little brother_ -”

Skywalker’s hand is at his temple, pressing lightly, and something is easing into his mind, warm and vibrant, and he doesn’t fight the unnatural sleep that overcomes him. No, if anything, he welcomes the dark.

* * *

Rex opens his eyes slowly, sluggishly, his body numb and cold. He wants to move, but his body refuses, so he stays where he’s at, trying not to look at the dried blood still covering him. And then someone is walking towards him, talking to him, he thinks. It’s not Skywalker, his General definitely didn’t wear armor, and he finally looks up at the person. Rex blinks. It’s… Cody, his armor charred slightly, looking a little worse for wear, but he’s there, his brown eyes sharp with worry. “Hey, Rex.”

His vocal chords make a feeble attempt to respond, but all that comes out is a small puff of air. Cody sits in the chair beside the cot, setting his helmet beside Rex’s, the blue and gold contrasting distracting Rex for a moment. “Rex?” There’s his name again, spoken so hesitantly, and Rex _really_ should respond, or else they’ll think he’s defective, so he ignores the screaming of his muscles in protest and sits up. He feels strangely… empty.

“Hey, Codes.” He rasps, swallowing harshly around his dry throat. A cup of water is shoved into his hands, and Rex doesn’t ask where it came from. He glances around, wincing when the days events come flooding back. The water helped soothe his sore throat, but did nothing to wash the taste of ash and death on his tongue. Rex’s cheeks colored in shame and he stared down hard at his helmet, anything to keep him from meeting Cody’s gaze. He’d acted like a shiny- _worse_ than a shiny- and if Skywalker had hated him before, he most definitely did now. A weak Captain was a useless Captain, isn’t that what he’d been taught from the beginning? They were bred to be better, to be the best, and sometimes, Rex would admit that he forgot that. 

“You okay? General Skywalker said you went into shock, said you were pretty out of it.” Cody was- Cody was everything that Rex couldn’t be, he thought bitterly. Cody was strong, and brave, and he did anything to get the job done, even if it meant losing his brothers along the way. And yet he was still the strong, resilient Commander Rex knew. Cody never broke. So why did Rex?

“‘m fine, just tired. I don’t know what came over me.” Rex finally admitted, rubbing his sore eyes before standing, making Cody give a squawk of protest. 

“Hey, take it easy, Kix said-“

“Kix said that I’ll be fine.” He at least remembered that much. “I have to go check on Skywalker’s men, you coming or not?” Rex grabbed his bucket before Cody could protest, feeling more like the Captain he’d been trained to be with it on. Cody obviously wasn’t happy with it, but nodded anyway, following Rex dutifully outside.

* * *

Rex hated being debriefed. 

It wasn’t anything in particular, it was just the monotony of it all. He’d lived through the battle, and then was forced to relive it again to his superiors. Granted, it was easier with Cody beside him, stiff and professional, his presence alone making Rex feel stronger. It was almost Rex’s turn to speak, and he shifted slightly in agitation, Cody’s eyes following the movement, along with a discreet shake of his head. Rex wasn’t stupid enough to try anything, especially with General Kenobi and Skywalker there, and he offered Cody a thin smile. 

The distinct feeling of someone watching him caught his attention and his eyes snapped forward, expecting it to be an admiral or Kenobi ready to reprimand him, but instead he met Skywalker’s amused gaze. Rex narrowed his eyes, a warning, and Skywalker raised an eyebrow in mock offense. 

Was he- was he _talking_ to him from across the room? Rex quickly looked around, finding everyone else enraptured with the officer speaking before his gaze slid back to his General. Skywalker gave him an unimpressed look before mouthing it again. 

_“Are you okay?”_

Cody was looking at Rex again from the corner of his eye as if scolding him, but Rex ignored him. He gave a small nod to his Jedi, looking away from the smile that it produced. What did Skywalker think he was doing anyway? Talking- _mouthing, more appropriately-_ to a clone in the middle of a debriefing? This wasn’t cadet training, you didn’t cut up with the person next to you, or snicker about some childish joke that had been whispered in your ear. 

Rex ignored him after that, keeping his eyes ahead and his hands clasped behind his back, the way he’d been taught. He still wasn’t prepared for his name to be called, especially from General Kenobi himself. The man was waiting, nodding encouragingly as if sensing Rex’s discomfort, and he forced himself to take a step forward and begin speaking. He tried to remain detached, not looking at anyone, staring at the wall in front of him, and he cursed himself when his voice broke slightly. It was when he announced the casualties that he started to freeze up. Denal’s face flashed briefly in his mind, and a spark of pain worked its way deep inside before he snuffed it out. 

He could feel Skywalker’s eyes on him, and he resisted the urge to squirm when he finally finished, stepping back and falling in beside Cody once again. And that was it. The debriefing moved on, almost as if he’d never spoken at all. Rex wants to cram his bucket on and get out of there, wants to prepare for the inevitable counter attack the Separatists have planned, but protocol dictates otherwise, so he stays still, a good little soldier.

By the time it ends and they’re dismissed, Rex’s arms are cramping, and he flexes them to get the feeling back into them, picking up his helmet that he’d set on a crate. General Kenobi walks towards them, although he only has eyes for Cody. He’s smiling, happy, and Rex can feel Cody practically buzzing with excitement as well, although he manages to keep a straight face. “Cody,” Kenobi greets warmly, looking his commander over a little longer than appropriate in Rex’s opinion before he claps a hand on Cody’s shoulder pauldron. “I need to discuss those battle strategies we’ve been working on. Stop by my tent sometime tonight.”

Cody, ever the loyal Commander, nods, giving a mock salute, although Rex swears that he’s blushing, almost impossible to tell with his tan skin. “Of course, General. I’ll be there.”

Kenobi nods, looks at Rex and smiles before leaving, taking Skywalker with him. Rex elbows Cody hard in the ribs, satisfied when his brother grunts in pain and finally snaps out of his stupor. “What the kriff was that?”

Cody straightens, grabbing his helmet and tucking it under his arm, his face easing into a mask of indifference. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Rex stares incredulously before letting out a short, disbelieving laugh. Cody gives him a strange look as they step outside. “Don’t tell me you’ve caught feelings for that _jetii._ He’s your General, Codes, nothing good can come from… _that_.”

Cody looks at him sharply, his eyes flashing in a way Rex has never seen. And by then he knows: Cody is already too far gone to listen to anything he has to say. “Obi-Wan is a good person.” Cody snaps, and Rex can hear the defensiveness bleeding into his voice. “He wouldn’t do anything to endanger troops or the outcome of this war, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried about the war,” Rex is glad he put his helmet on, it at least gives him some courage to speak his mind. “I’m worried about _you_. Jedi are-”

“Our commanding officers.” Cody interrupts, turning to stand in front of Rex, glaring at him. “Our Generals, whether you like it or not. Honestly, Rex.” Cody’s tone has turned from angry to frustrated as he regards Rex intently. “What is your deal with Jedi?”

Rex doesn’t have to say, because Cody already _knows_. Cody was the one person he could always go to, the one person he could vent to without fear of being turned in. Cody’s expression softened slightly, his shoulders slumping as the fight left him. “Rex, General Kenobi isn’t Korvas, or Pralua. He wouldn’t ever hurt any of us.”

Rex clenches his jaw hard, looking away.

“General _Skywalker_ isn’t Korvas or Pralua either.” Cody murmurs softly. Rex’s head snaps up at that, and Cody shrugs. “It’s true. He’s kind.”

“Pralua was too, before she-”

“ _Rex_.” Cody barked, his voice not loud but demanding all the same. Rex immediately fell silent. When he looked up, Cody’s eyes were pained, pleading. “You have to stop, you have to _let people in._ It's going to tear you apart.”

“Why should they even care?” Rex exploded, his fists clenched by his sides, taking a threatening step forward. Cody took a reflexive step back, surprised. “We’re nothing to them. We’re _cannon fodder_ , Cody, why can’t you understand that? We were made to die. There is _nothing_ special about us.” 

“That’s not true and you know it.” Cody snapped, his eyes fiery. “What’s your problem, Rex? Why are you all of a sudden telling me this?”

“I can’t see you break.” Rex blurted, his chest feeling tight, like a rubber band about to snap. “I can’t see _him_ break you. Jedi lie, and manipulate, how do you know he’s not controlling you right now, as we speak?”

“Oh, _gods_ , Rex. Do you hear yourself right now? Don’t you think everyone should have the right to be their own person? To make a reputation for themselves aside from what they’re pinned as? There are going to be people who disappoint us, but you can’t let that ruin you.” Cody was oddly breathless, as if he’d been dying to speak, and Rex didn’t respond, just stared, the need to defend himself, defend his actions almost overpowering. “I’m sorry your past Generals treated you wrongly,” _Wrongly_ didn’t cover half of it, and something within Rex flared in agitation at the word choice. It made their actions seem small, miniscule, unimportant. “And I know you don’t trust them, but Kenobi and Skywalker are _good_ people.”

Rex inhaled deeply, flexing his hands, looking away. “I can’t do that again.” He finally whispered, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I can’t let them break me like the others, I _won’t_ let them.”

Cody shook his head slightly, his eyes sad. “Ad’ika, when are you going to realize that it’s okay to get attached? To love someone?”

“Love is for children.” Rex muttered, rolling his eyes.

Cody laughed softly, easing some of the tension, before he was serious once again. “They make you feel, you know.” Rex raised an eyebrow, not that Cody could see it, but they’d known each other long enough that Cody got the message. “They make you feel like you’re more, like maybe you do actually mean something. It’s… nice. I’d never felt that before.”

“Yeah,” Rex mumbled, studying his dirt caked boots.

“Maybe one day you’ll feel it too. Until then,” Cody’s eyes flashed with mischief and he crouched, sliding his helmet on. “You owe me a spar.”

Rex laughed even as Cody tackled him to the ground.

* * *

Anakin couldn’t help but smile as he watched his captain fight, not going easy on Cody in the slightest. He also couldn’t help the flash of pride that he felt, watching as Rex pinned Cody easily, a happy smile on his face, only to be thrown off seconds later. Obi-Wan stood next to him as well, chuckling slightly when Cody knocked Rex’s helmet off. “I think Cody may have him.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow, momentarily taking his eyes away from the spar to give Obi-Wan a look. “Yeah, no. Rex will beat him, easy.”

Obi-Wan glanced over at his former padawan, narrowing his eyes before setting his jaw. “Cody is a Commander, he’s more thoroughly prepared for hand-to-hand combat than a Captain.”

“Oh yeah? Well Rex has plenty of experience. He’s busy fighting battles while Cody is busy doing your paperwork.” Anakin retorted, enjoying the look of annoyance that flashed in Obi-Wan’s eyes. A yell made them both turn back, Cody and Rex both locked at the head, both struggling to push the other back. 

“Don’t let up, Cody!” Obi-Wan yelled, leaning forward slightly in anticipation.

The shout from his General made Cody hesitate, all Rex needed to throw him to the ground and pin him there. Men from both the 501st and the 212th were slowly gathering, placing bets and cheering their officer on. Cody’s helmet was ripped off, revealing the smirk beneath, and Anakin froze.

“Watch out, Rex!” 

His Captain got the warning too late, and Cody, in a burst of raw power that had men in both companies- _including Obi-Wan, who looked slightly awed_ \- whistling in appreciation, shoved Rex off his back and jumped back up, all in one fluid movement. Rex, to Anakin’s amusement, looked shocked, his eyes wide, but he recovered and dodged the punch sent his way.

“C’mon, Rex! Show ‘em a good time the 501st way!” Fives hollered, Echo whooping in agreement beside him.

“Get him, Cody! Make the 212th proud!” Waxer shouted in retaliation, Boil grinning beside him and throwing a smirk to the men of the 501st. 

And then Rex was down again, a knee to his back, his face twisted in pain and Anakin took an involuntary step forward, to do what, he didn’t know. Their eyes met, held, and Anakin smiled. Rex smirked, his eyes glinting dangerously, and Anakin coughed lightly, a little flustered at the attention. Obi-Wan was yelling again, urging Cody to keep Rex pinned as the troops around them started counting down. 

“Five!”

Rex relaxed, going pliant beneath the Commander, but his eyes never left Anakin’s.

“Four!”

Cody’s face was flushed with exertion, or maybe, Anakin thought wryly, from Obi-Wan’s yelling.

“Three!”

Rex went tense, his muscles coiled and ready, his hands planted firmly beneath his chest, something that Cody didn’t miss. The Commander put more weight into Rex’s shoulders, until his chest was almost brushing the ground, and Rex smiled cheekily. And then Anakin understood exactly what was about to happen, a small, knowing smile crossing his face. 

“Two!”

Cody’s grip was slackening in preparation for the surrender inevitably coming, which gave Rex the opportunity to get his legs in position, catching Anakin’s eyes one last time.

Rex winked, a dangerous smirk still on his face.

Anakin froze, his face flaming, not even registering the shock on Obi-Wan’s face as his old master turned to stare at him.

“One!”

It all happened too fast for Anakin to even comprehend. One minute Rex was down, the next he was twisting, his legs coming up to grip Cody around the waist, flipping them before he slammed him _hard_ to the dirt. Cody groaned, the breath knocked out of him, giving a weak attempt to stand before Rex placed a foot between his shoulder blades.

“Five… four… three… two… one!”

The troopers erupted in cheers and boos alike, the 501st practically screeching in excitement. Obi-Wan shook his head. “Cody had him.”

Anakin snorted but said nothing, watching Rex pick up his helmet and put it back on before helping Cody up. Rex seemed… different to him. More open, his shoulders relaxed and his stance carefree, and Anakin hurriedly averted his gaze when Rex’s helmet turned in his direction.

“I saw that, you know.”

Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan, then back at Rex, looking down and toeing a tuft of grass at his foot. “Is it a crime to watch Cody get his _shebs_ handed to him?”

Obi-Wan sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it.”

Anakin shrugged innocently, turning to walk towards his tent. “I really don’t know _what_ you mean, Master.” Obi-Wan sighed, rolling his eyes, and downright _snorted_ when Anakin called over his shoulder, “And I’ll be taking a nap, so don’t wake me up!”

* * *

That night, Rex woke with a start, a commotion outside making it impossible to sleep. Troopers around him groaned, reluctantly getting to their feet to investigate, and Rex slipped past them, seeing Cody standing next to General Kenobi. 

Skywalker was there as well, lips pursed and expression guarded, silently regarding the troopers around him. “We have new orders.” He didn’t sound happy about it, neither did Kenobi, judging by the way he scowled down at the holotable they’d hurriedly set up. “Admiral Yularen has assigned the 501st along with 212th to help on a second ground assault.”

“Where, sir?”

Skywalker glanced at the trooper for a moment, scanning the crowd until his eyes found Rex. He almost seemed sorry, as if he wanted to say so many things but couldn’t, and when he finally spoke, it was one cursed word.

“Geonosis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it’s a little shorter than i intended! i was rewatching the second battle of geonosis and yeah, i’m totally gonna put my boys through that, my bad. I would also die for codiwan, so there’s that too. I regret nothing.
> 
> let me know what you think!
> 
> have an amazing day lovelies <3


	3. and

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex is fine, really, he’s had way worse.
> 
> Anakin is... Anakin.

The _Negotiator_ was strangely quiet when they docked and unloaded, but Rex didn’t think too much about it. He shifted from one foot to the other, impatient but disciplined, waiting to be dismissed. Skywalker was taking his sweet time, talking to Kenobi in hushed tones, and he huffed within the confines of his helmet. Couldn’t his general see him? Rex was _right here_ , standing right behind him, surely he was aware? 

Kenobi suddenly looked over to Cody, who had been much more patient and still, remaining by Kenobi’s side dutifully. Rex almost snorted. Almost. “Sorry, Cody.” Even apologizing Kenobi’s voice was warm, and Rex rolled his eyes. “You’re dismissed, be sure to get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.” Cody said, nodding and walking past Rex almost mockingly, making sure to bump shoulders with him as he passed. Rex growled low in his throat but stayed still, inhaling to try to calm himself. Gods he was tired. He wanted to shower and sleep, maybe eat something other than rations, but that was proving impossible with Skywalker ignoring him. Suddenly, as if he’d read his mind- _which Rex didn’t doubt_ \- his general turned, looking Rex over as if just seeing him.

“Oh, Captain.” Rex was glad his helmet was on so Skywalker couldn’t see the sneer that threatened to curl on his lips. “Go ahead, we’re done here.”

Rex didn’t bother to respond, simply turning and marching towards the door. 

_How do you like that, General?_

Apparently he didn’t like it very much, because there was a hand on his arm, stopping him and turning him to face him. Skywalker was more frustrated than angry, his eyes stormy. “What’s your problem, Rex? Acting out like that is only gonna make things worse, especially if someone reports it.”

Rex stiffened, all humor leaving him. Because of course Skywalker would turn him in, why wouldn’t he? Rex was a clone, a stupid, dumb soldier meant to follow orders, and once he failed to be that, he failed to fulfill his purpose. 

_Why did I start to trust him?_

“My apologies, _General_ , I was out of conduct. Would you like me to request a reassignment?” Rex barely kept his tone neutral, trying to keep the coldness from his voice. Skywalker had the audacity to look shocked.

“No, what- what are you talking about?”

Now Rex was confused. Confused, but mostly indifferent. He didn’t give a bantha’s ass at this point. His brow furrowed, and he honestly didn’t know how to proceed, so he waited for Skywalker to continue, holding himself completely still under his General’s arm that had only tightened at his statement. Rex finally found his voice. “You-” 

“General Skywalker!”

Skywalker groaned, finally releasing his arm and stepping back, tearing his eyes away from Rex and to the trooper walking towards them. Rex chose that moment to slip out of the room.

* * *

Despite the annoyance of communal showers, Rex would say that he enjoyed them. He’d slept for a few hours if that before finally growing tired of the feeling of the grime clinging to his sweaty form. It seemed as if everyone else had the same idea he had. There was no privacy, but if he closed his eyes, it was almost like he was alone.

“ _Ha,_ you should see Fives’ ass from here.” A trooper- _Denal’s replacement,_ Rex thought absently- remarked, laughing when Fives turned to glare at him. 

“It’s your ass too, di’kut. Same body, remember?”

Rex rolled his eyes, groaning despite the relaxing effect of hot water on sore muscles. “C”mon, boys, we talked about this-”

“I was just making him aware,” Fives interrupted absently, lathering with care and shrugging. “That we all have the same body, the same-”

“Fives.” Kix snapped, a disgusted look on his face. “Not in the showers.”

Fives made an incredulous face. “When is a better time to do it?”

“In the privacy of your room-” Echo started, undeterred even as Fives interrupted him.

“Which happens to be your room-”

“- _preferably_ where I can’t hear you.” Echo finished with a grumble, grabbing a towel and drying himself off, slipping on his blacks with practiced ease. 

Rex dried off and followed suit, tuning out the chatter around him and thinking through the recent events. He shouldn’t have winked at Skywalker. That would be another thing he could get reported for, especially seeing as he’d done it to someone with such a reputation. Although, now that he thought about it, Skywalker hadn’t mentioned it or even really acknowledged Rex since then, so he figured for now he was safe. 

A wet towel hit his face with a _smack_ and Rex flinched, growling at Fives, who cackled and dodged the pauldron thrown his way. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, Rex? Your cyare?”

More snickers, followed by some whistles that died when Rex turned to seethe in their direction. “He’s a Jedi.” He spat, looking them over one by one coldly before piecing his armor on. “I wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall for one of their kind.”

“Hey, no need to get defensive.” Fives held up his hands placatingly, an apologetic look on his face, his voice lowering. “I just saw you wink, that’s all. I was wondering if you-”

“I feel nothing for him,” Rex cut in, slipping his helmet on and breathing in the recycled air. “Besides, we’ve only known him for, what, a week? Two?”

Fives just shrugged, slipping on his blacks and nodding. “Right. Sorry.”

A com chimed from a bench, and Rex picked it up. “Rex here.”

“ _ETA is in fifteen minutes. Hope you boys are rested up.”_

Rex snorted, rolling his eyes. “You know us, Wolffe, we never sleep.”

Wolffe made a disgruntled noise, obviously in the same state of mind as Rex at the moment, which was never a good mix. “ _Just be ready, I don’t want to have to drag your shebs across the ‘field because you passed out from exhaustion.”_

“I would never.”

_“Doubtful.”_

Rex switched off the com and tossed it back to the bench, adjusting a few more straps before taking a few testing steps. Armor could either be a good thing, or a bad thing, and no one wanted to be caught in the middle of a firefight with armor that pinched you in all the wrong places. Once sure that he was ready, he stepped out into the pristine hallway and made his way towards the gunships. He approached the one he’d been assigned, running a hand along it’s hull. 

“The odds of surviving when one of those babies crashes is slim to none.”

Rex turned, a little startled to see a pilot standing close by, watching him. “So I’ve heard. You planning on crashing it?”

The pilot cocked his head, making his helmet connect with his pauldron in a barely perceptible _chink_. “Not really.” He sounded certain, but detached, and Rex wondered how many times he’d had to fly one of these into battle. 

Instead of the rigid form he’d seen in most pilots, this one was calm, relaxed, his weight shifting to one foot, unbothered by Rex’s rank. He finally jerked his head towards the ship. “You flyin’ in this one?”

Rex nodded, eyeing the vessel a little more closely. “Yeah, me and the 501st. You got a name?”

The pilot straightened slightly, walking over to hop on board and check different wiring and buttons that Rex had no hope of understanding. Finally, he spoke. “Hawk.”

“It suits you.”

The pilot- Hawk- looked up at that, and they stared at each other for a long moment before he muttered a “thanks”, making his way to the cockpit and climbing in as troopers started to gather around them, making their way to their assigned ships. General Skywalker passed by Rex so closely that he startled, almost tripping over his own feet, which SKywalker gave an amused look at. Rex huffed, boarding and going to the farthest corner to wait for their arrival.

Geonosis, no matter how despised, awaited.

* * *

They’re all dying.

Logically, he knows this, knows that their accelerated aging is killing them faster than any other being the galaxy anyway, that dying by blaster is a far more noble death than what the Republic would do when they grow too old to continue fighting, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

With every soldier that dies, a little piece of Rex dies too, but he has a job to do. He tries to ignore the bodies dropping like flies, tries to ignore their cries and pleas for help. He shakes off the trembling hands that reach out for his legs as he passes, stepping over corpses and bits of flesh that made his stomach turn. 

General Skywalker is up ahead, his face covered in soot and dirt, a holo on his hand displaying a tiny Commander Cody. They’re talking about Kenobi, about him being down, wounded in the landing, and Rex hesitates to approach. The battle has died down for now, the Geonosians falling back for no apparent reason.

His remaining troops looked like ghosts, the dust swirling in the air making their armor seem all the more otherworldly. Rex would admit that they made a sight, loaded to the teeth with weapons and armor streaked with blood and dirt. They looked like warriors, like their Mando’ade ancestors. 

But their unease was palpable. They shifted minutely, clenching and unclenching their fists in preparation, quiet and observant. 

Kix was making his rounds, checking the wounded and passing the dead, choked screams coming from the trooper he was currently bandaging. Rex swallowed harshly and looked away, watching his general cut off the holo and stand. 

“Rex, report.” His voice was strained, tense, and his eyes were glazed slightly.

Rex blinked, his brain glitching for a brief moment, and he had to use his HUD as a reference as to their casualties. “Over half of your men killed indefinitely, sir.”

“Indefinitely?” 

“Another thirty or so are missing, General.” Rex had seen brothers carried away first hand, had seen them struggling and kicking and screaming, only to disappear into the tunnels above moments later. He didn’t want to think about what may be happening to them, the pain and death they had to be experiencing.

“Are you alright, sir?”

Skywalker winced and looked out towards the decimated land around them, inhaling and exhaling on a sigh.

“Yes. From what I’ve heard, no one else is doing any better either. We’re outmatched a hundred to one. We need more troops.”

Rex hummed, rocking back on his heels slightly and letting the quiet of the planet settle over him. His Jedi glanced over at him. “Are _you_ alright?”

Rex tilted his head, curious as to why he was asking that when men were dying all around them, in far worse shape than him. “I’m fine, sir.”

Skywalker smiled tiredly before letting himself drop, sitting cross-legged and forcibly relaxing his shoulders. “I think I’m going to meditate for a while, Captain.”

“Yes, s-“

Rex froze, as did the other troopers, everyone’s helmets whipping up to look at the sky, their fear mingling with his own. Skywalker was undeterred, stretching slightly before closing his eyes. The clones all knew that sound, had been forced to learn it, had heard it too many times during battle to forget it so easily.

“ _Incoming!_ ”

Without thinking, Rex grabbed his general and _dragged_ him to an overturned gunship, the whistle growing in pitch until it felt like it was right behind him, in his ear. He practically threw Skywalker inside, making a move to follow but a trooper knocked him off balance on their way in, forcing Rex to step back a few steps to steady himself. Apparently he took too long. The door to the gunship shut with a condemning _clang_ , the whistle impossibly loud now, his ears throbbing with the pressure. He took a step forward-

The world exploded in white.

He was thrown forward, colliding with the side of the ship hard, pain flaring up in his back and chest and he bit back a grunt at the heat that was nearly overwhelming. Shrapnel imbedded into the ship beside him, the rough, jagged edges a testament to their danger. He dropped from where he’d been pinned, the force of the blast lessening until he was on his knees gasping for breath. As soon as it happened, it was gone, the chaotic ruins of the missile the only evidence it had been there at all. Bits of dirt and metal rained down, pelting his armor, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears.

The wounded that they’d dragged closer to the ships earlier hadn’t made it- neither had a few other troopers that hadn’t been fast enough, but Rex had other things on his mind. He threw open the door to the ship, stumbling inside and colliding with-

Skywalker. 

His generals eyes were wide, taking in his charred armor before traveling to Rex’s chest. Rex looked down as well.

His chest-plate was ruined, warped from colliding with the ship, and now that he focused enough to think, his head was throbbing in time with his heart. He didn’t dare remove his helmet, afraid that with it gone his resolve would follow.

“Are you hurt?” Skywalker finally asked, the guilt in his eyes making Rex uncomfortable. He could be truthful, say that he felt like osik and that he didn’t think he’d last a second out there, but they had a battle to win. They couldn’t stand to lose anymore men.

“N-no, sir. I’m okay.” Even as he spoke and shifted his back sparked in pain and he bit back a scream, the telltale trickle of liquid down his back indicating that he’d been hit. Skywalker regarded him for a moment, obviously not believing him, but his gaze finally went past Rex and to the carnage outside. 

“We need to keep moving, they’ve obviously pinpointed our location.” Skywalker spoke loud enough so the remaining stragglers could hear, his voice much more steady and determined. “Load up. We’ll try to rendezvous with the 212th before dark.”

Which would be a great plan, Rex thought wryly, if he wasn’t bleeding out as they spoke. He hunched slightly to relieve some of the pressure, stepping out of Kix’s line of sight to prepare for their precarious trek. He couldn’t carry much, not in the shape he was in, but he grabbed a few more explosives to shove in his belt, checking his pistols to make sure they were in usable condition. 

And with that, they started off.

* * *

When night descended, Skywalker announced that they would be stopping for a rest, something that Rex was grateful for. His blacks were soaked in blood, every pass of his armor over the shrapnel as they walked sensing spikes of pain through every nerve and cell in his body.

He’d stayed behind for that very reason, had been the last of their little group, if not to hide his winces and groans then to hide the blood that stained the back of his armor. 

The camp was set up quickly and modestly, just the basics, some rations set out, a few low-level heaters to chase off the chill, and they were settled. Rex set up his bed farther away, rolling out the flimsy blanket and brushing off the various bugs that had somehow found their way inside. Carefully, he reached back, feeling around, his breath hitching when his fingertips grazed the jagged piece of metal, making the shrapnel dig further into muscle and tissue. 

“How’re you doing, Rex?”

His head jerked up, Skywalker’s blue eyes seeming impossibly bright in the dim lighting as he smiled down at him. “Uh, f-fine, sir.”

Skywalker hummed, moving to sit down, and Rex stiffened, causing a choked groan to fall from his lips when his back _burned_. His generals body was warm, calming, and Rex felt himself unconsciously lean towards him. 

They sat in comfortable silence, listening to the wind whistle through the rocks.

“Thank you.” Skywalker suddenly said softly, his head tipped back to gaze up at the shrouded stars above them, but Rex could only stare at _him_. He’d never been thanked for doing his job, and he couldn’t describe the feeling in his chest. 

“Just doing my job, sir.” He finally managed, turning his helmet away and cursing the sweat that rolled down his face. He _really_ didn’t feel good. 

Skywalker turned to look at him, his eyes sad, confused. “Do you like your job, Rex?”

Rex started a light pant, the days events starting to catch up to him as the adrenaline wore off. “Never known anything else, so yes, sir. I enjoy it.”

Something flickered in his generals eyes and he straightened, looking Rex over. “Are you hurt?” His voice was incredulous, and Rex’s face burned with shame even as his skull throbbed. 

“I- nothing I can’t handle, sir, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Skywalker argued, his voice raising, and Rex instinctively hunkered down slightly despite himself. “Take off your helmet.”

His hands trembling but unable to disobey, Rex complied, gasping softly when his feverish skin was hit with a wave of cold, fresh air. Once done he set his helmet aside, not looking at his general and instead running a hand across his thigh plate. 

“You’re pale.”

_I know that._

Skywalker’s eyes were closed, and Rex could feel something easing into his mind, touching his emotions, his consciousness, and he didn’t resist. His general’s eyes snapped open. “You _are_ hurt.”

Before he could even comprehend how his Jedi found out Rex was spun to face away from Skywalker, his back to the man, making his head spin and a low groan to escape his chapped lips. He could feel hands pressing into his armor, probing, and he flinched when they came a little _too_ close to the wound. Skywalker stopped, hesitating, calculating, before carefully starting to unstrap his back-plate, his hands a little uncoordinated, obviously unused to them, but other than that Rex was impressed. 

The armor was slowly, carefully removed, and Rex sucked in a breath at the cool air hitting his soaked blacks. _Fierfek_ it was cold. His general suddenly stiffened behind him, going deathly still, and Rex closed his eyes tight, imagining himself anywhere but here.

“Rex…”

A hand carefully touched his shoulder blade, comforting, and Rex shuddered softly, making a small noise in the back of his throat.

“That’s- that’s _shrapnel_ , captain.” His generals tone turned firm. “There’s no way you didn’t know about this.” He was getting angrier, agitated, and Rex finally opened his eyes, staring out into the inky blackness, watching the sand swirl in the artificial light of camp, trying to control his breathing.

Rex flinched when he heard Skywalker call for Kix, his heart pounding, and he swallowed harshly. “I was gonna take care of it-“

Skywalker shushed him shortly, his hand leaving Rex’s back, the chill that followed making him shiver. His general spoke when Kix finally joined them. “Shrapnel. No telling how long it’s been in.”

A second pair of hands started to probe, making him hiss in pain, followed by a “sorry” from the medic. The metal was given an experimental tug and Rex swore, sucking in a breath through his teeth and biting his lip _hard._ “Well, it’s dug in, that’s for sure.” A pause. “Was this from the bomb, sir?”

It took him a moment to realize that he was addressed. “Yes.” He didn’t bother with the proper etiquette of how to respond, instead trying to form basic words without grunting or moaning in pain.

Kix made a thoughtful sound, the clicking of metal making Rex stiffen. “Easy, sir.” The medic placed a hand between his shoulder blades, comforting. “I’m going to give you a light sedative, just something to numb you up a bit, then we’ll get it out. Sound good?”

Rex didn’t respond, just closing his eyes as his blacks were cut open. Someone behind made a pained noise, followed by a sharp intake of air. 

“I need you to distract him, sir.” Kix murmured, but Rex heard him anyway. 

Skywalker suddenly appeared before him, his face pale and drawn, but a charming smile momentarily making Rex forget about the white hot pain. “So… you come here often?” His voice wavered slightly despite his smirk, and Rex gave him an unimpressed look.

“Charming, sir, truly. Maybe you shou-“ Rex broke off on a grunt as a needle was jabbed into his lower back, making him jump forward slightly and clench his eyes shut tight.

“Hey hey hey, focus. Don’t think about it.” Skywalker coaxed, snapping his fingers lightly. “It’s okay, I’m here.” Rex pried open an eye in annoyance, the drug slowly starting to take effect. “You got a hobby, Rex?”

Skywalker really sucked at distracting. If there was an award for “worst distraction of all time” he would win. A squelch sounded behind him, followed by a sharp, burning pain and he gave a muffled scream, biting into the back of his hand to silence himself. Once he caught his breath, he opened his eyes to glare at his general. “Do I _look_ like I have a hobby, sir?”

His Jedi made an apologetic sound, clicking his tongue, obviously rethinking his tactic. “Uh…” His expression suddenly turned serious. “Why don’t you trust me?”

Rex’s back was finally numb, and he felt light all over, his vision swimming. He could feel a pressure there, but other than that, he couldn’t feel a thing, which he was grateful for. Rex used that to distract himself from the question, not meeting Skwalker’s gaze. “I do trust you, sir.” It was a lie. He knew it, Skywalker knew it, _hells_ , Kix knew it, as did everyone else who’d seen them interact. 

His general just sighed and shook his head gently, like scolding an errant child. “No you don’t, Rex. Not like you should.”

Rex stiffened, making Kix slap his back lightly in reprimand. “‘m sorry, sir.”

“No, it’s not-“ Skywalker made a frustrated sound, groaning before rubbing a hand over his face. “Just forget it.”

“Done.” Kix finally announced, standing and moving into Rex’s line of sight, holding up a wicked looking piece of metal soaked in blood. “Barely missed your kidneys. You’re a lucky man, sir. Keep the bacta and bandage on at all times, and try not to strain yourself.”

Rex frowned despite the drug making him woozy, his brain struggling to keep up. “That’s impossible, we have a mission-“

“One that will be compromised without you.” Kix snapped, packing up his instruments and closing his bag with a flourish. “So rest up. That’s an order.” Before Rex could point out that he outranked the medic, Kix held up a hand. Rex fell silent with a grumble, but did as instructed, carefully peeling off the rest of his armor and piling it next to his blanket.

“Sleep.” Kix ordered one last time, grabbing Skywalker by the arm and steering him away.

Rex watched them go, gingerly easing down onto the blanket and sighing as the tension eased from his muscles.

 _Tonight,_ he thought blearily, _tonight I’ll get some sleep._

* * *

Anakin glanced back one more time, watching Rex finally lay down before turning his attention back to Kix. “How bad is it?”

“A lot worse than he’s letting on. He’s lost a pretty good amount of blood, and-“ Kix broke off with a groan, closing his eyes. 

“What?”

“I forgot to examine his head and chest.” The medic looked back at where Rex was- _maybe_ \- sleeping, shaking his head. “It’ll have to wait until morning. If I wake him up now, he’ll never get any rest. Let’s just hope the blast didn’t leave any internal bleeding or damage. I don’t have the equipment for something of that nature.”

Anakin nodded, silence falling between them before he finally asked the question no one could seemingly answer. “Why doesn’t he trust me?”

Kix’s head snapped up so fast Anakin wondered if he got whiplash, his eyes glinting with something he couldn’t decipher. “It’s not my place to say,” he mumbled, not breaking eye contact. “but if it gives you any consolation, it’s not your fault. In all honesty, it’s not _you_ at all.”

Anakin frowned, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense. I’m the problem but I’m not the problem?”

Kix’s expression went blank. “Are you fairly new to the Grand Army of the Republic, sir?” His voice was soft, not mocking, just dead serious. Anakin nodded. “Some Jedi, _not all of them_ , I know you and Kenobi are good people, we all know that.” The medic hesitated, a flash of protectiveness glitzing in his eyes as he continued. “But some Jedi don’t… _respect us as humans_ , if you will. The last few Jedi we’ve been assigned to have been just such Jedi. Rex didn’t like it, didn’t like the way we were treated like no more than numbers. Rex was the only one crazy enough to stand up for himself.” His expression suddenly went cold. “He paid the price, though. He learned what the Jedi were capable of the hard way.”

Clearing his throat, Kix leaned in. “But anyway, sir. You didn’t hear that from me.”

The medic walked away, leaving Anakin in a whirlwind of emotions. How could a Jedi be so… cruel? How could they not see that these men were human? Their force signatures were all intricately unique, shining brightly along with the rest of the beings in the universe. How could one sense that, feel their very _soul_ and still be so heartless?

“General.”

Anakin turned, smiling when he saw Fives next to him. “What do you have for me, Fives?”

“The 212th is, by our estimations, just over this ridge, about twelve clicks east. We should be able to rendezvous by midday tomorrow.”

Anakin breathed a soft sigh of relief at the prospect of seeing his old master again, nodding and dismissing Fives. He wondered if Obi Wan had as much trouble with his second in command as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please ignore any grammatical errors, as i’m too lazy to go back and fix them :) did y’all like it? let me know! <3


	4. call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex wasn’t trained for this.
> 
> Anakin gets too much joy from watching an uncomfortable Rex try to retaliate.
> 
> Edit: ao3 glitched? i don’t even know what happened, all i know is i had to repost this chapter because it got deleted.

_His heart was pounding nauseatingly fast, his breaths choppy, uneven, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why. He was fine, perfectly fine. His vod were beside him, sleeping soundly, the near constant rain on Kamino finally quiet, so why couldn’t he sleep?_

_CT-7567 got to his feet quietly, the door looming impossibly tall before him. He could hear some of the older vod just outside, talking and laughing. He hesitatingly opened the door, peeking his head out and seeing two brothers turn the corner, their comforting chatter growing fainter. A bolt of courage suddenly shot through him and he stepped out, the floor cold on his bare feet._

_This was wrong, it had been drilled into him that lights out meant_ lights out _, and if you were caught afterwards, punishment was not only likely, it was promised. He crept forward slowly, his small feet too clumsy as of yet to be completely silent, but he tried his hardest._

_The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. CT-7567 turned slowly before his eyes widened in shock, a bolt of fear running through at the T-shaped visor staring down at him._

_A republic commando, by the looks of him, his armor bulky and obviously heavy, but the trooper carried himself as if it weighed nothing. The trooper cocked his head, the ominous blue glow of the visor making him seem otherworldly and CT-7567 cowered slightly._

_“Hello, vod.” The trooper’s voice was amused, his grip on his blaster shifting until he could crouch, coming face-to-helmet with CT-7567. “What are you doing out here?”_

_“I…” CT-7567’s voice cracked, and he desperately wanted to make a good impression on an older brother. “I couldn’t sleep.”_

_The commando glanced over his shoulder, relaxing slightly when he saw the hallway empty. “Listen, ad’ika,” his voice lowered slightly, his helmets transmitter barely picking it up. “it’s dangerous. If the longnecks find you out here, if they know that you’re…_ different _, they’ll kill you.” CT-7567 blinked slightly at his bluntness. “You have to do what you’re told.”_

_CT-7567 knew this, but the way the trooper said it somehow made it finally resonate with him. For once in his five years of living, he realized the danger of his situation. “I know.” He finally murmured, squirming slightly in discomfort._

_The trooper stood again, and CT-7567 marveled at the strength in the motion. “Is that your room?”_

_CT-7567 nodded, letting his hand be taken and the trooper lead him to the door. He made a move to go inside but stopped at the hand on his shoulder. The commando was staring, hesitating, and CT-7567 furrowed his brow. Feeling bad, CT-7567 spoke. “What’s your name?”_

_“Officially, RC-2304. Unofficially, Buck.” He held out a gauntleted hand, engulfing CT-7567’s with his own. “What’s yours, little man?”_

_“CT-7567.”_

_Buck’s head cocked in confusion, picking up on the ‘CT’ instead of the ‘CC’. “Why’re you sleeping in the officer’s quarters?”_

_“I was reassigned. ‘M gonna be a captain one day.” CT-7567 had his own doubts about the reassignment. He hadn’t been bred for this, had been scared out of his wits his first day of training, and his fear only grew as the days went by._

_Buck chuckled, an odd sound through the helmet, and he squeezed CT-7567’s shoulder gently. “You’ll do great, kid. But do me a favor, don’t come back out here at night.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Hey, what’re you two doing?”_

_CT-7567 thought Buck’s neck would snap he turned so fast, his frame tensing as he caught sight of the Mandalorian down the hall, staring at them._

_“Listen to me,” Buck’s voice was rushed and low, urgent, and indescribably sad. “You can’t trust anybody. I don’t care what they tell you, or what they promise you, just… don’t. Don’t stand out, follow the rules-”_

_“I_ said _, what are you two doing?” The Mandalorian was now beside them, his fists clenched, and CT-7567 hunkered in on himself. He knew all too well what those hands could do, and judging by the way Buck flinched, he knew it too._

_Buck’s blue visor turned away from him as he stood to attention, his form rigid, but CT-7567 detected a slight tremor in his hands. “Nothing, Sergeant Vau. Just accidentally woke this cadet up, armor grazed the door.”_

_Vau- Walon Vau, now that CT-7567 could remember- stared down at them hard, his own T-shaped visor doing nothing to provide the comfort that Buck’s had. “I thought you were going to the shuttle.” His tone was suspicious, border-line accusative, and CT-7567 looked between them apprehensively._

_“I was-_ am, _sir. My apologies.” Buck glanced down at CT-7567 one last time, his hand twitching as if to reach out before he turned and walked down the hall. He never looked back._

_Stepping back into the room, CT-7567 moved to seal back the door quickly, leaving the terrifying Mandalorian outside. He scampered back to bed, his eyes darting to the window when a shuttle glided by moments later._

Buck.

_CC-2224 grumbled in his sleep beside him, and CC-7567 quickly lay back down, ignoring the creaky mattress for the time being. A light rain started outside, a bolt of lightning flashing across the sky before-_

_Boom._

Rex jerked awake, choking on a gasp, the blanket he was tangled in only furthering his panic. His heart was racing and his chest heaved, a sheen of sweat causing a shiver to encase his frame in the chilly morning air. After freeing himself and calming slightly, he glanced around. Geonosis. Skywalker. 

Buck wasn’t here, Buck had died at the first battle of Geonosis, a pitiful waste of his skill set, along with 4,981 other commandos who had been sent to a fiery, painful death. 

Swallowing harshly, wincing at the acrid smell of bacta in his nose, he sat up further, ignoring the ache of his abs as he stretched. He put his armor on meticulously, thankful for the healing properties of bacta, only noticing a slight sting from his wound.

The rest of the clones were already awake, panting and groaning as Fives pushed them through grueling workouts with little regard for the early hours of the morning. Rex stretched one more time, deciding to just hold his helmet for the moment as he walked through the camp. Fives paused long enough to toss him a grin, offering a sarcastic salute.

_Kriffing ARCs…_

Skywalker was sitting at a small fire, a holo of Kenobi out before him. “-ut we could pass through the ridges here by traveling in the tunnels that’ve been, as of yet, abandoned. It would cut off at least a quarter of travel time, and we could rendezvous before they come up with a counter attack.”

Rex didn’t interrupt, listening intently to his general’s plan. It wasn’t… _ideal_ , but it would do. That is, if Kenobi agreed to it. He stood beside Skywalker, making sure to be loud enough to announce his presence so as to not startle the Jedi, his eyes catching on Cody beside Kenobi, one of the Jedi’s arms wrapped around his shoulders to hold him up. Rex rolled his eyes slightly, grinning at the thought of how flushed Cody more than likely was.

A pair of blue eyes suddenly caught his attention. Startling, Rex cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir?”

Skywalker gave him an unimpressed look. “I said that you need to be resting until we need to move again. We don’t know when we’ll be able to stop next.” 

Kenobi’s garbled voice cut in. “ _He’s right, captain. We’ll need you for the coming battle.”_

Rex shrugged off their concern, shifting uncomfortably at the attention. “I’m fit to fight, general. I assure you, I’ll be fine.”

General Kenobi inclined his head before the holo dissipated, leaving a narrow eyed Skywalker to stare up at him before standing. “We won’t stop for you if you fall behind.”

Rex lifted his chin defiantly, staring his general dead in the eye. “Good. I expect no less.” 

* * *

Rex kept up surprisingly well, Anakin thought a little bitterly. He’d been looking forward to saying “I told you so”, but the clone captain had done better than expected, although Anakin could feel an underlying exhaustion that weighed on him despite his adamant “I’m fine”.

As if on cue, Rex’s head lifted higher, his helmet hiding his features, but Anakin didn’t doubt that he was glaring at him. He was tempted to laugh but kept quiet, instead squinting to peer further down the trail. Obi-Wan and the 212th were just over this ridge, but it would be a daunting task. Anakin glanced over at Rex, assessing to see if he’d be able to make it, and his captain visibly stiffened. 

“Something wrong, _sir_?” His tone was defensive, terse, and Anakin didn’t know why it offended him so much. He, being the calm and collected person he was, decided a different tactic was necessary. Years of watching Obi-Wan flirting had rubbed off on him, and more often than not, he found himself doing it subconsciously. Except this was not being done subconsciously.

“Do I really need a reason to look at you? It’d be a crime not to.”

Rex tripped, righting himself quickly and coughing within the confines of his helmet. Anakin hid a smug smile. He could sense embarrassment, confusion, and something else, something darker hiding beneath the surface. “You can’t even see my face, _general_. And I don’t think that’s appro-“

“Loosen up, Rex.” Anakin nudged him lightly with his elbow, not missing the way his captain shied away from the motion. 

_Yeah, I’ve got my work cut out for me._

“With all due respect, sir, this is a battlefield. It’s against protocol to not be aware of my surroundings at all times. As captain of this battalion, it is my duty to-“

“One day.” Anakin interrupted, waiting until Rex’s helmet swung to look at him before continuing. “One day I’ll get you relaxed and comfortable around me. May even get you to say my name, too.” He grinned cheekily as Rex growled and turned away from him, ignoring him, something that any other general wouldn’t have tolerated. But Anakin had a feeling that Rex was hurt far deeper than he let on. He could feel it, sometimes, when Rex’s guard came down or when he became particularly angry. That pain and bitterness resurfaced, morphing into something akin to the darkness he’d sensed in the few sith he’d encountered. It scared him, to an extent, but he would never reveal that. 

So he let Rex have the little things, the little bouts of freedom that any other Jedi would never give. 

It wasn’t long before the 212th came

into view, lifting their hands and waving in greeting. And that’s when he finally felt Rex relax, his shoulders dropping and a happy aura taking over the otherwise forlorn feeling. Obi-Wan’s commander, Cody, practically radiated excitement as well, walking over to greet them. 

“General.” Cody saluted smartly, then his voice dropped to a tease. “Captain.”

Anakin could feel Rex’s eyes roll as he motioned to his men to join Cody’s. Then Anakin actually startled. Rex had grabbed Cody by his shoulder pauldron, grabbing him and pulling him in hard for a hug, practically clinging to the commander, and if Anakin looked hard enough, he could detect a tremor in his hands. “ _Su'cuy gar, Kote._ ” 

Knowing he had no hope of understanding the language and feeling like he was intruding, Anakin went to join Obi-Wan, noticing the man watching their officer’s interaction as well.

“Good man, that Cody.”

Anakin hummed. “Rex is, too.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered over to his, amusement coloring his voice. “Oh yes, so I here.”

“Generals.” They both turned, Fives nodding to Obi-Wan respectfully before continuing. “Gathering Geonosians just thirteen clicks over that rise.”

Sighing, Obi-Wan turned to walk over to his men. “Come along, Anakin.” He called over his shoulder, a grin on his face. “Your captain will follow shortly.”

* * *

There was something about Geonosians that Rex just couldn’t stomach. He didn’t know if it was their throaty battle cry, the dry _crunch_ their bodies made as they fell, the way they would snarl, low and savage, or all of those combined. 

He tried not to think about it, just focused on the feeling of his pistols bucking in his palms, the steady, rhythmic _rata-tat-tat_ of blasters firing and the equally rhythmic thud of bodies falling. 

Cody was beside him, relaxed, a little _too_ calm for Rex’s liking, firing precisely and coolly, not missing a single shot. It was almost ironic, how alike they were to their generals. Kenobi was calm and collected, precise and calculated, everything a Jedi _should_ be, a peace surrounding him that far surpassed anyone else’s on the battlefield,and Cody followed his lead. They were a team, so in sync with each other that Rex wondered if there wasn’t something deeper going on with those two.

And then there was Skywalker.

Chaotic, deadly, raw power that was barely contained, erratic, unfocused, fighting with a savagery to rival the Geonosians’. There was no peace, no calm, only a deep, dark need to _stay alive_ and to accomplish that with any means necessary. Yes, he and Rex were alike. Too alike, so much that they clashed too often in a battle of wills that neither won. 

A blaster bolt whizzed by his helmet, scorching the side and making Rex duck down with a hiss.

“Rex,” Cody barked, still firing, still deathly calm, his grip relaxed around his blaster, but the beginnings of tension was starting to leak into his voice. “Focus and _do_ something.”

“I _am_ doing something.” Rex growled, jumping back up to fire in quick succession, seeing at least three or four Geonosians drop with the action. “We need a plan!”

“I’m thinking, I’m thi-”

The world exploded around him, he and Cody both being flung into the air at an electrifying speed, his breath momentarily knocked from his lungs. 

The ground rushed up to meet them, and Rex thrust out his hands instinctively, clenching his eyes shut tight to brace for the impact.

He never met the ground.

Slowly, sucking in a harsh breath, he opened an eye, quickly opening both when he found himself hovering above the dirt and sand below him. His body felt tingly, a little unsteady, but secure, a comforting force surrounding him.

_The Force._

Rex and Cody were lowered to the ground, both grunting slightly when they were finally released from the unearthly grip, and Rex twisted his head to search for the culprit.

Skywalker was just lowering his hand, nodding sharply to Rex before turning back to the battle, deflecting bolt after bolt, his movements so _fluid_ that it momentarily made him pause. 

Cody was barking orders at him, jerking his arm frantically for Rex to follow him to the ridge of sand he was crouching behind, and it took him far too long to obey the order. He’d never been this distracted before. He found that he didn’t like the feeling.

_Yeah, I’ve got my work cut out for me._

* * *

Rex is a soldier. That’s it, that’s his sole purpose, the reason for his existence, the very epitome of his being.

So _why_ were they being sent to the _Resolute_ for _leave_?

It was unheard of, really. Clones didn’t get leave, didn’t get the luxury of downtime, and he was more than a little wary of the order. He had a hunch that Skywalker had something to do with it, but he didn’t bring it up, and neither did any of the others.

Fresh troopers had been sent in to mop up Geonosis, the 212th and 501st being whisked away from the planet shortly after the final battle had begun, and Rex was a little perturbed. 

He _wanted_ to fight. It was the one thing he could say he enjoyed, the one thing that he could do without fail. Instead, here he was, bored out of his mind, lazily draped across Fives’ bunk, his brother’s legs trapped beneath him.

“I just don’t understand.” Rex groused, sighing and staring up at the metal bars above him, watching the springs of the thin mattress above creak as Echo bent to peer down at him. 

“We’ve only been here for like, what, four hours? You might as well get used to it.” 

Fives, looking equally as bored as Rex, rolled his eyes. “We’re bred for fight, vod, why do we even need leave? It’s not like we’re defective.”

Echo shrugged, backing out of sight again. “‘dunno. Maybe they think we’re a little tight? We _have_ lost a lot of men these past few assignments.”

Rex hummed in agreement, letting his eyes slide shut, trying to let the hum of the engines lull him into sleep. Someone coughed, Fives shifted, the scratch of cloth on blacks, a page being turned, and _yeah, he wasn’t sleeping anytime soon._

Sighing in resignation, he stood, grabbing his gear and strapping it on before scooping up his helmet and comm. Fives perked up. “Going to train?”

“No,” Rex was almost tempted to laugh at the way Fives’ shoulders dropped at that. “just making a few rounds. You boys should get some rest.”

Fives murmured something that sounded very much like a “ _kriff you”_ before Rex slipped from the room, donning his bucket and starting his walk. His muscles practically burned with the need to _do something_ , and he picked up the pace, nodding to two patrolling troopers he passed.

The _Resolute_ was a big ship, but she was nothing compared to fresh open air and the sun beating down on your skin. Rex already missed it, _not Geonosis,_ but the sun. Growing up on Kamino was entirely different than growing up in a warm, clear environment. As cadets, they’d been foolish enough to believe that all worlds were like Kamino, dark and dreary and _wet_. 

Rex can remember the first planet he’d been shipped to: Coruscant. And while not the most _beautiful_ planet- _by far_ \- it was the first time he’d felt natural warmth, not the kind that was belted out of the heaters in their quarters. 

Cody had laughed at his reaction then, so had Bly and Wolffe, and Rex felt a pang of grief when he realized that was the last time they’d laughed. _Really_ laughed. War happened, death happened, and being subject to that at _ten standard years old_ was… _difficult_ . The others has stayed _relatively_ the same, but Wolffe had turned into a completely different person, his calm and open demeanor souring into someone unrecognizable.

He noticed it in all troopers, though. The newbies were always optimistic, determined and _happy_ to serve, but somewhere along the way, their positive outlook died with their brothers, and the battle hardened men the Kaminoans had wanted were formed. 

Rex broke from his thoughts with a start, slowing when he approached a maintenance room, his brow furrowing at the overly loud _clank_ of something falling. Peeking his head in, he came face-to-helmet with a very guilty looking general.

“General Skywalker.” Rex drawled slowly, not even attempting to keep the shock and suspicion from his voice. Skywalker, for his part, gave a sheepish grin.

“Captain.” Skywalker murmured, averting his gaze back to the heap of junk in his lap.

For a moment Rex just watched his general pick through the mess before he spoke. “All due respect, sir, but what’re you doing in here?” Skywalker lifted his head briefly, just long enough for Rex to catch sight of a smudge of grease on his cheek before he ducked back down again.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta do this stuff.” He motioned to the scrapped droids all around them, looking so… _un-general like_ that it made Rex uncomfortable. He reminded him of a shiny, awkward and unsure, and Rex fought down the feeling that swelled in his chest.

“We have mechanics for that, sir.”

“They’re not doing their job, then.” Anakin retorted, making a triumphant sound as he picked up a wad of wiring. “Found it!”

Rex shook his head, backing out of the room and preparing to leave.

“Where are you going?”

Rex gave him a deadpan stare, a hard task with his bucket on. “My rounds, sir.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Skywalker gave a mock pout, laughing when Rex recoiled.

“I’m not a mechanic.”

“You don’t have to be.” Skywalker motioned to the clear spacing of floor across from him, and Rex hesitantly obeyed the unspoken command. “Now here, find me all of these pieces.”

Rex slid his helmet off, carefully placing it away from the scraps of metal littering the floor. “How many do you need?”

“Twenty-seven.”

“ _Twenty-seven?_ ” Rex visibly balked, eliciting another laugh from Skywalker. The sound was- _nice_ , actually, and it made the beginnings of a smile cover his own face before he quickly schooled his features. However, he couldn’t silence his traitorous thoughts.

_His laugh is everything._

To cover up his red cheeks, Rex ducked down and began rifling through the droid parts, coughing and trying to concentrate on the task at hand. 

And, well, if Skywalker noticed his face flaming further when their hands brushed, then he didn’t say anything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy the fluff while it lasts, i’m about to fuck some shit up. 
> 
> but seriously, thank you for reading, i hope you liked it and i’m sorry it took so long! have an amazing day! <3


	5. me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one:
> 
> Nobody:
> 
> Literally not a single soul:
> 
> Anakin: First of all, Rex did nothing wrong and is the only man ever, so write that down.

It was bound to happen.

Living in cramped conditions with no privacy and even less consideration from others made tempers flare and patience snap, Rex just hadn’t thought he’d be on the receiving end.

They’d been on their little vacation for all of a _week,_ and it was becoming increasingly clear that the men were starting to lose their cool. 

They were brothers, and they cared for each other deeply, but they were still human, and therefore subject to human failings. The Kaminoans had said they couldn’t feel stress, that it had been bred from them so they could function without breaking, like _droids_ , but they were wrong. The very genes that helped them think independently and quickly was the same one that kriffed them over in the long run. 

So yes, they were stressed, of course they were, and Rex had been too blind to see it. One minute, he was joking around with the men- _and hells, maybe he’d said something to trigger the other trooper-_ and the next pain was exploding across his jaw as he fell to the floor. 

He scrambled up quickly, a little confused and woozy, but snapping out of it quickly to meet a seething Jesse. “You just don’t know when to _shut up_ , do you, _sir_?”

Blinking, trying and failing to keep a lid on his own temper, Rex took a threatening step forward. He was an _officer_ , he was used to being treated with nothing but respect, no matter how close they were. “Stand _down_ , trooper.”

Jesse _laughed_ , but Rex could see the tears in his eyes. 

_Fierfek, how long has this been going on?_

His men were exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. Hells, they _all_ were, he’d just thought…

He hadn’t thought. And once again, Rex was proven to be an inadequate officer, and his men were suffering for it.

“ _Oh,_ this is _rich._ I’m _trooper_ , now, am I? What, you start to get close to a _Jetii_ , he treats you like you’re _something_ and suddenly we’re _beneath_ you?” Jesse’s eyes were- _not_ Jesse’s, so glazed and sad and _tearfilled_ that it made Rex's heart twist painfully. He hadn't even realized he hadn't used Jesse's name.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Rex snapped, holding up a placating hand, more frustrated with himself for his lack of human decency than anything, but Jesse glared at the appendage as if it was a weapon.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” Jesse barked back, shrugging off Kix’s hand and storming towards Rex.

_Don’t, don’t lose it. Keep it together, they’re watching you, be an example, be-_

The fist connecting with his jaw a second time was the last straw. Days of being cooped up with nothing to destroy, all the pent up stress and anger, all of it burst in a split second of weakness. He fought back without thinking. It was drilled into him, _beat into him_ , into all of them, to defend themselves, so he did. 

Jesse was unstable, his vision blurred by tears, and Rex had to reign in the desire to take advantage of the other’s weakness. Instead, he threw a punch of his own, catching Jesse in the nose and making him stumble back.

Rex took in an unsteady inhale, shaking out his stinging knuckles and almost choking at the tightness of his throat. He didn’t hesitate to jam his helmet back on, raising his hands in the stance that they’d drilled in together since they were cadets. 

“Coward,” Jesse hissed, and Rex bit back a growl at the accusation. He drew back a fist, ready to strike again.

“ _Stand. Do-_ “

“ _What_ is going on here?”

Everyone stiffened collectively, Jesse’s hazy eyes clearing slightly as he blinked at someone behind Rex, but Rex didn’t dare turn, closing his eyes as nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

_Skywalker._

Oh, he was so kriffed. Judging by the look of horror slowly spreading on Jesse’s face as he regained awareness, he realized it, too. 

“I _said_ , what is going _on_ here?”

_I’m sorry, sir._

He swallowed and tried to force himself to move, to face his general, but an underlying fear kept him paralyzed. Kix, ever the pacifist, stepped up. “Just a squabble, sir. Nothing to be concerned about. We’ll ha-“

“You’re _my_ men.” Skywalker interjected, his voice sounding very close to being angry, and Kix shut his mouth with an audible _clack_ of teeth. “It _is_ something to be concerned about.”

_Right. We’re property._

He forgot that sometimes, forgot that he was nothing but a _number_ , just one in a sea of millions. Silence was Skywalker’s only response, the rest of the men looking increasingly uncomfortably, and Rex was grateful he had put his bucket on to quiet his harsh breaths.

_Kriff, I can’t breathe._

Panic was something he wasn’t familiar with. On the battlefield, thinking calmly and efficiently was the difference between life and death, he’d always shoved down the panic, stifled it, _buried it_ , but here, out in the open and _horrifyingly vulnerable_ , he couldn’t see a way out. 

He needed- he needed to calm down, he knew that, he also knew, logically, that since he hadn’t started the fight, he wouldn’t take the brunt of the punishment, but it was only the _idea_ of punishment that his cooked brain could focus on. 

“Rex, what's this all about?"

_My hands are shaking._

Rex clenched his fists, took a deep breath, not liking the way his chest quaked with the action, before turning and facing his general. 

_Kriff, he’s angry, he’s angry, he’s-_

Skywalker abruptly crossed his arms, like he was dealing with a child, and Rex resisted the urge to flinch. Why wasn’t _Jesse_ talking? He was the one who went bantha-shit crazy, not Rex. But as captain, he noted begrudgingly, he took responsibility for _all_ of his men’s doings. This was no different. 

“I-“ He cut himself off, not out of fear, but because he had _no idea what to say_ . Rex was hit with an overwhelming need to _defend himself_ and he hurriedly blurted, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Skywalker raised an eyebrow at the childish excuse, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "Good to know.” He paused for a second, glancing at Jesse before his eyes wandered down to Rex's trembling hands, which he tried in vain to hide. His eyes softened. "Come with me, Rex."

And then he walked from the room.

“Rex…” Jesse’s voice sounded _wrecked_ , guilty, but Rex shook his head. 

“It’s fine, Jess.” The nickname did nothing to pacify the other trooper, but Rex couldn’t focus on that right now. “He’ll go easy on me.” 

Squaring his shoulders and inhaling deeply to calm himself, he turned to his men. “I’ll be back, try not to get into anymore fights.” Rex forced the teasing tone, and it seemed to work, his men’s shoulders relaxing marginally, a few of them cracking smiles before Rex hurriedly stepped out of their quarters.

Skywalker was waiting for him, and the Jedi spared him a brief glance before starting to walk.

_Oh gods…_

Why was he so nervous? Skywalker wasn't Pralua or Korvas, he wouldn't hurt him, Rex was- he was over-exaggerating. Everything would be fine.

Clones didn’t feel stress. 

The Kaminoans had said so.

_My hands are still shakin’._

The Kaminoans had _lied_.

* * *

It seemed as if they’d been walking for hours, but Rex didn’t dare say a word. He kept his mouth shut and his eyes forward, matching Skywalkers pace step for step, ignoring the way his heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat.

They stopped in a room Rex had never had the luxury of visiting, a _huge_ glass panel giving a startlingly vivid scene of the stars around them, the lack of artificial lights only illuminating the beautiful backdrop. It was breathtaking, unlike anything he'd ever seen, and before he could stop himself he was reaching out to touch the pristine glass, only catching himself when the harsh, worn leather of his gloves made contact with the delicate surface.

He snatched his hand back quickly, glancing over at Skywalker to find the man watching him. Those blue eyes were electrifying in the dark, the stars reflecting off them making them seem all the more exotic, and Rex tore his gaze away before he did something stupid.

_Can’t even trust myself when I’m around him._

And when had that started? Since when did he care what his General thought about him? About the color of his eyes, the color of his hair? Rex’s own features paled in comparison to the Jedi in front of him, something he was constantly aware of, and he kept his helmet on for that sole purpose. 

His hands itched for something to do, and he ended up clasping them behind his back, hand on forearm, fist clenched, just like he’d been taught. 

Skywalker suddenly sighed, and Rex felt his pulse spike. His general mumbled something under his breath before finally speaking aloud. “Are you okay?”

Rex blinked, not expecting the soft question, and even more unprepared for Skywalker gliding forward to gently tug off his helmet, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. Then, carefully and oh so slowly, a finger tilted his chin up, turning his head this way and that. 

He held himself very still, his burning cheeks betraying his flustered state, but Rex was never one for showing weakness, and he’d be damned if he started now. It was hard, though. Very hard.

How easy it would be to just take a small step closer, to wrap his arms around Skywalkers warm frame and-

Skywalker hummed softly, catching Rex’s eye and holding it for a moment before smiling, releasing his chin. It should be against regulations for someone to be that distracting, for someone to be so sinfully oblivious to what they were doing, but Rex wouldn’t be caught dead admitting that. 

“‘m fine, sir.” He finally managed to murmur, afraid that if he talked too loud it would break this- whatever this was. Skywalker’s head tilted, a boyish expression crossing his features as he studied Rex. 

“You sure? From what I hear, you 501st boys hit pretty hard.”

_He’s heard stories about us?_

Clearing his throat and eyeing his helmet still clutched in his general’s hands, longing to shove it over his head and _run_ because kriff, he was feeling things he wasn’t supposed to feel, Rex contemplated how to respond. “Uh, yes, sir. Part of our training.”

Skywalker didn’t answer, instead turning Rex’s helmet over and over in his hands, studying it, tracing over a rugged dent lightly with a finger, his expression one of innocent curiosity. 

Then he did the unthinkable, the deed that would haunt Rex for the rest of his short life, the deed that would keep him up at night, burned into the back of his eyes permanently.

Skywalker put on his helmet. 

It looked… huge on him, rocking back and forth with every move the Jedi made. Skywalker cocked his head, his tone amused. “How do I look?”

There were a million things he could say, and as Rex stared into the Jaig eyes of his helmet, he told himself the simple, brutal truth.

_This means nothing to him._

And, hey, that was- that was fine, really, it was, Rex just hadn’t thought it would hurt that much, admitting it. And maybe Rex was foolish, or just plain _stupid_ , but he decided to allow himself this one moment all for himself, to be selfish for just _once_. He let that warm feeling take root and spread. A mistake.

“Like an exact copy of me, sir. Truly.” 

Skywalker would be the death of him. He would. He pulled the helmet back off in one smooth motion, shaking his head to try and coax his hair back into place. The result, however, was an adorably endearing case of helmet hair. “Hey, that wouldn’t be half bad.” Skywalker handed back the helmet with a grin. “There’s only one Rex, though.”

Frustrated at the way his heart sang at the words, Rex bit out before he could think, “There’s a million others just like me, sir. Take your pick.” The lighthearted tone he was reaching for didn’t quite come to fruition, and his smile was forced.

Skywalker immediately sobered, his expression falling into one of pity, of remorse, and Rex _didn’t_ want it. He’d heard enough, out on the streets, the whispers from the civilians about how _boring the life of a clone must be,_ about how _horrible it would be to see your face everywhere you went._

“There isn’t.” His Jedi insisted, his brows furrowing in agitation even as he took a step forward, and Rex, on reflex, took a step back. “You’re perfectly, individually, achingly unique. It's… you feel different.” Skywalker's face flamed at Rex's confused expression. "In the force, that is. All of you, your force signatures are just as unique as the next person. No two are alike." His expression was open, vulnerable, and Rex didn't deserve his compassion. "You _are_ different, Rex. I would never lie to you."

Looking away, Rex tried to focus on the winking stars beyond, tried to focus on anything besides the burning intensity that was Skywalker, to no avail. He wasn’t- he wasn’t _good_ with emotions, that hadn’t been his purpose, so he was sorely lacking in that department. 

He squirmed uncomfortably, fiddling with the rim of his helmet to keep himself from saying something that he would regret. Instead, he changed the subject. “Are you… going to write me up, sir?”

Skywalker looked frustrated by the change of topic but answered nonetheless, turning to stare out at the stars. “No, I know it wasn’t your fault.”

The faith and certainty in his tone made Rex feel a certain way, and he shoved his helmet on to hide his flaming face. “Thank you, sir. Permission to return to your- my- um… _our_ men?”

_Fierfek._

Rex would die from embarrassment if Echo ever got ahold of the security tapes of this conversation.

“Granted.” Skywalker threw a lazy grin over his shoulder, and Rex almost tripped in his haste to get to the door, stumbling in the dark. “See you ‘round, captain.”

That was the beginning of a very long week. 

* * *

“I love ‘im, Rex.”

Trying to hold up a very drunk and very emotional Cody was no small feat considering the sheer amount of _muscle_ the commander possessed, and Rex grit his teeth and resisted the urge to groan. 

They’d been sent to the GAR headquarters based on Coruscant, and they were _supposed_ to be waiting for an assignment, but after some coaxing from the 212th, Cody had agreed to visit 79’s. 

Rex just hadn’t thought he’d be receiving a holovid of Cody throwing up in the bar's bathroom, mumbling about 'his general' and how 'pretty he was', followed by a desperate plea from Waxer to come pick Cody up. 

“What were you thinkin’, Cody?”

"Aye, I had it all under control." As if to contradict himself, Cody stumbled, his head lolling against Rex's shoulder as he yawned. 

"You're a piece of work."

"Yeah, _art work_."

Rex snorted. "Sure, Codes."

"Paint me like one of your twi'lek gir-"

"Right." Rex interrupted quickly, practically dragging Cody to his quarters, praying that no unlucky trooper saw them. Cody worked hard for his reputation, and Rex couldn't even _remember_ the last time he'd seen his brother have fun, let alone _drink_. Something had to have happened for him to resort to the 'toilet water' he resented so much. But that was a conversation for a different time.

It was hard to punch in the code to Cody’s private quarters with the man squirming and giggling so much, but with a snapped _“stay still”,_ Cody obliged, going boneless in his grasp. Yelping at the sudden dead weight in his arms, Rex heaved, dragging his commander unceremoniously into the room and practically throwing him on the bunk.

“Sleep it off, _vod_.”

“Hey, hey, Rex, I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“I’m the-“ Cody broke off into a fit of laughter again, clutching at his stomach as if it was the funniest thing ever before visibly trying to collect himself. “I’m the one who stole F-Fox’s sweets.”

Rex just stared at Cody, willing himself not to laugh and be the adult in the situation, but then again, he was only ten years old. “Oh? You mean the sweets that that pretty _senator_ gave him, the same ones that he bragged about for a week?”

Cody seemed to think for a moment before nodding. “Those are the ones.”

“ _Ori’vod_ , go to sleep. We’ll talk about your thievery in the morning.”

Cody practically hissed, jumping back up quickly. “Wait! Don’t tell Kenobi!”

“About what?” Rex raised an eyebrow. “You stealing or the fact that you’re drunk stupid?”

“I’m not drunk.” Cody blinked owlishly, falling back to his bunk and staring hard at his mattress. “I think.”

Rex walked out without saying goodnight.

* * *

It was Cody’s luck to get drunk the night before inspection day. 

Rex was tempted to _cackle_ at his brother’s ruffled appearance, his hair mussed and his eyes glassy. His parade rest was sloppy, and he was leaning further onto one side.

“Good morning, sunshine.” He murmured cheekily, grinning when Cody gave him a death glare.

“We don’t talk about it.” 

And they didn’t. 

_Later_ , Rex promised himself, going rigid as an inspector walked by, squinting at the rows upon rows of troopers and writing on a clipboard.

He tried to catch a glimpse of Skywalker, but gave up when he almost toppled over from straining too hard. He caught sight of Wolffe, though, and the look his brother gave him was one of angry resignation.

_Wolffe never did like inspection day._

Rex just hoped it would go by quickly, because he had a feeling the restlessness he felt wouldn’t go away without a _kark_ load of drinks.

* * *

“Do you understand?”

The Mandalorian before him was cocky: Too cocky for Dooku’s tastes, but that was a price he was willing to pay for the man’s skill. 

“Perfectly, Count.” The man tilted his head, the T-shaped visor hiding his expression. “When do I start?”

The smile that overcame Dooku’s features was entirely uncalled for, but not unwelcome. “My dear boy,” Dooku clapped a hand down on his shoulder pauldron, ignoring the growl that he received in return. “you start as soon as you walk out of those doors.”

The assassin regarded him for a moment, calculating, before he shrugged off Dooku’s hand and held up a wicked looking vibroblade. “Any specific way you want it done?”

Dooku hummed, thinking for a moment. “I leave that to you. But please, be creative. You wouldn’t want the Jedi tracking this back to you.”

Stiffening, the Mandalorian took another step back. “They could never.”

“Let us hope.” Dooku countered, watching the man leave and feeling entirely too pleased with himself. 

Would this turn the tide of the war? More than likely not, but he had to count small victories for what they were: victories. A little mistrust and paranoia amongst the clone ranks would do them well.

He just hoped he would be there to see the look on Kenobi’s face when they delivered the crushing blow.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little nervous about this chapter? i know i promised angst for all you angst lovers, but then my hand slipped and boom, we got fluff instead XD. And FINALLY! The plot has begun my dudes, and hopefully you’ll enjoy it! 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! have an amazing day lovelies, you mean the world to me <3


	6. yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex and Anakin have a lot to work out.
> 
> Luckily it’s nothing a cramped closet can’t fix.

_He’s never had a mother._

_Or a father, for that matter, but he tries not to dwell on that fact too deeply._

_Instead, he focuses on the smooth, even tone of Cody’s voice as he sings softly in Mando’ad, a soothing hand running up and down his arm comfortingly, warm and safe._

_They’re six years old, and Rex just killed his first living, breathing man._

_And he’s terrified._

_They never used live targets:_ never _, but to the Kaminoans, it was a very efficient way to execute prisoners. It was sickening._

_His breath stuttered and Cody’s arms tightened around him. “Udessi, vod’ika, I’ve got you.”_

_He looks down at his hands, blurry through tears, and can’t deny the fear he feels. Yes, he’s afraid. Afraid of himself. Of the power that he and his brothers possess, the potential they have, the ability to_ kill _and keep killing._

 _“I didn’t mean to,” he says somewhat lamely, turning to bury his face into the crook of Cody’s neck because if he doesn’t, he’ll start crying again, and Rex is_ entirely _too old to cry. “They- they told me to, and- and he had a blaster, he was going to-“_

_Cody shushes him, rocks him a little, still rubbing Rex’s arm. “I know, it’s okay. You did good.”_

You did good.

 _He knew that. It had been a clean shot, a quick death, but that’s not what Rex_ wanted _. He wanted to get the image of spattered blood and brains out of his head, wanted to stop hearing the nauseating squelch as insides were forced outside._

 _Wolffe grumbles in his sleep from the cot beside them, and Rex tenses, glancing over, because if_ Wolffe _woke up, that would be another person to see this side of him: the soft side of him, and he was entirely unprepared for that._

_“Rex,” He’ll never tire of hearing his name, not after forgoing one for so long, and he inevitably relaxes, swiping a hand across his cheeks to wipe away any moisture left over. “It’ll be okay. I promise. Just sleep, I’ll be right here.”_

_The mature part of Rex wants to feel embarrassed, wants to protest, but Cody is strong and familiar behind him and he finds himself closing his eyes._

_Cody hums a tune, one they’d heard on the shitty datapad Wolffe had stolen, and it brings a smile to his face._

_Somehow, the blood on his hands doesn’t seem so thick after that._

* * *

The kid blinks slowly, and Rex already knows he’s losing him. He’s not a medic, and the only thing he knows to do is to apply pressure to the wound. It doesn’t matter, though. The blood still seeps out anyway.

“Eyes on me, soldier.” He commands softly, and amber eyes flicker to stare up into his own, hazy with pain and fear. “Just hang on, kid. Kix is coming, he’ll fix you right up.”

He knows it’s a lie. And so does the trooper beneath him, but the kid manages a small, weak smile anyway. 

“You got a name?” Kix had always told Rex that talking helped keep the person awake, helped distract them from the pain. 

_Kriff, I wish I’d paid better attention when he was lecturin’ me._

The kid took a raspy, gasping breath, his face scrunching in pain, and he was _so young, too young_. “K-Kade, sir.”

“Kade.” Rex hummed, but the sound was lost in the roar of the battle raging around them. “That’s a good name. I’m Rex.”

“I know, heard stories ‘bout you.” It’s almost a whisper, but it still hits Rex like an electric shock. 

“Stories…” He repeats slowly, glancing down and wincing at the blood that’s oozing between his fingers, trailing in a thin stream to soak the dirt and sand beneath them. 

Kade doesn’t answer, his eyes sliding shut and his breath hiccuping. Panicking, Rex shakes him, making the kid’s eyes snap open and a harsh breath to be sucked in. “Sorry. I need you to stay awake.”

“Can’t.” Comes the whined response.

“Yes you can. I know you can.”

“Tired.”

“I know. You can rest later, I promise. Just keep your eyes open and on me.”

Kade’s eyes close.

Cursing, Rex rips off his own helmet, ignoring the voice saying to _never remove your bucket in combat_ and slapping the trooper’s cheek lightly, make him groan but otherwise remain still. “No, you don’t get to die today.” His hands are soaked, slipping on the kid’s armor, and he almost falls over top of him when an explosion rocks the ground. “Kade!”

“Jus’ tired, sir.” He breathes, his face paling and his previously clenched hands slowly falling until they’re resting on the ground, a sharp contrast to the trembling that once enveloped them. 

This is the fourth shiny he’s held in this battle. The fourth one he’s tried to comfort. And now would be the fourth one that died in his arms.

 _Just tired,_ was an understatement. Kade’s body was failing, crashing, unable to keep up with rapidly oozing blood and the lack of adrenaline. His breaths turn to whistles, and Rex _can’t watch this again._

“No,” he all but snarls, looking around to search for any sign of a medic, but all he sees is the flashes of blasters firing and the unfiltered _noise_ that makes his ears ring. “Stay awake. You’re fine, you can make it.”

Kade’s chest shudders on an inhale, a long exhale following, his tense muscles slowly uncoiling until he’s dead weight in Rex’s arms, the light leaving his eyes until they’re only a dull hazel.

“Kade.”

There’s no answer. No inhale, no flutter of eyelids, no clenched fists, no whispered _it hurts_ , and Rex sets him down slowly, carefully, before standing and shoving his bucket back on. 

His armor is drenched, and he feels completely _drained_ . But they have a battle to win. So he pushes on, ignores the way his heart twists painfully with every _vod_ that falls, ignores the way his fingers slip on the trigger, slick with blood. 

And by the time it ends, he’s drowned the agony and grief out completely.

* * *

_“Don’t die on me- dammit! I swear to hells, Fives, stay with me!”_

_But Fives can’t hear him. Because Fives is choking on his own blood, his skin paling rapidly, and Rex has no idea what to do._

_“Please,” it’s a whisper, a plea. “Please don’t leave me, you’re fine, you are, you’re strong, you can make it-“_

_Fives’ body convulses, and he vomits blood, thick and black. Rex can only stare, horrified, his stomach dropping._

_“Save me…” Fives is staring up at him, his eyes wide, scared,_ too young _, just like Kade, and Rex’s heart is_ breaking _because_ why _does this always happen to the people he cares about? “Please, sir… help me.”_

_“I can’t-“_

_“It hurts,” Fives whines, his back arching off the ground as his eyes shut tight in pain. “Please, make it stop, please, Rex.”_

_“I-“ Rex’s throat is closing, and tears are blurring his vision, but he can’t seem to focus on himself at all._

_Then Fives’ body is shifting, morphing, his armor melting into a deep, dark black. The creature staring back at him is a living nightmare._

_“_ **_Weak_ ** _.”_

_He’s thrown onto his back, and he gasps for breath, whimpering when a crushing force is applied to his chest._

_“_ **_Defend yourself, Captain._ ** _” The creature taunts, it’s voice a sneer, baring its teeth to reveal razor sharp fangs. Rex makes to get up but is only pressed back down harder, and he groans as he feels his ribs straining under the pressure._

“Rex!”

_“_ **_Fight me. Prove yourself worthy._ ** _” The creature shifts again, taking on the shape of Pralua, and it’s voice dips into a seductive whisper. His breath hitches and he bucks up weakly. “_ **_Come now, soldier._ ** _” Her lips curl into a wicked grin. “_ **_You can do better than that._ ** _”_

“Wake up, c’mon, Rex. You’re okay-“

 _“_ **Are** **_you a good soldier?_** _” Pralua snarls, her eyes turning an inky black, overflowing until it’s running down her face, streaking her pale skin with the dark liquid._

_“Y-yes, sir.”_

“Rex-“

 _“_ ** _Then_ ** **_follow orders_** ** _-_** _“_

 _“_ Wake. Up!”

Rex wakes with a jolt, gasping for breath, the phantom pains only a whisper of what had happened, and he places a trembling hand on his side, feeling. 

_Nothing broken. You’re fine. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine-_

Someone was next to him. Rex backed away quickly, his back hitting the wall and making a puff of breath leave him at the impact. It was- he didn’t know the person, it was dark, he didn’t, and it was _Pralua, it had to be, she was_ here-

“Easy, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

Recognition hit him like a slap in the face, and with it, a sense of embarrassment. 

_Why the hell is he always here when I’m like this?_

Rex wouldn’t look at him, _couldn’t_ , so he stared at a spot on the tent’s canvas, forcing his breathing to slow and his chest to stop heaving. Skywalker made a pained noise at the action. 

“Easy, Rex. You okay?”

Skywalker’s voice was soft, and Rex swallowed hard, clenching his fists hard to hide the tremor there. “S-sorry, sir. I’m fine.”

_I woke him up, didn’t I?_

It was quiet for a moment, the tension mounting, but Rex still didn’t look at him, his heart pounding. Finally, he heard his Jedi sigh.

“Look at me, Rex.”

Rex shook his head, his breath stuttering, because this was _embarrassing_ and his general was _never_ supposed to see it. The trembling in his hands wouldn’t lessen, and Rex grit his teeth _hard_ , his gaze trailing to his armor stacked neatly beyond, the jaig eyes of his helmet staring back tantalizingly. 

“ _Rex_ ,” Skywalker sounded frustrated, confused, and Rex’s eyes flickered to him of their own accord. 

He loved his Jedi’s eyes in the dark. It made them practically _glow_ , the electric blue ten times more stunning, and he found himself locked into his gaze without even trying. 

_I hate him._

Skywalker looked indescribably tired. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rex tried to scoff, but the sound came out wet, broken, and more resembling a gasp than anything. “Do I have a choice?”

Skywalker’s eyes burned into his own. “You always have a choice.”

Rex tore his gaze away with no small amount of difficulty, looking back to his helmet for a moment, opening his mouth to speak before closing it again. Finally, “Do you know what those jaig eyes represent, sir?”

Skywalker blinked at the change of subject but nevertheless shook his head, his own eyes traveling to the helmet. “No, I don’t.”

“ _Jai'galaar'la sur'haii'se_ ,” The language flowed smoothly from Rex’s tongue, and he felt himself relax some at the familiarity of it all. Skywalker was watching him intently. “it means ‘shriek-hawk eyes’, but more importantly, they’re a mark of honor. A reward for an act of bravery.” Rex couldn’t stop the bitterness that slipped into his tone, and he looked away, disgusted.

“That’s… a good thing.” Skywalker said slowly, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

Rex glanced at him before standing, slipping his armor on and ignoring the sound of protest from his general. “It was a mistake.”

He slipped out of the tent before Skywalker could answer.

* * *

Fives wasn’t one to snoop, and he most certainly wasn’t one to get into other people’s business.

But as it was, he knew how to read Rex like the back of his hand. He wasn’t a shiny anymore, and he’d spent so much time with the captain that he’d be surprised if Rex couldn’t read _him_ like an open book. But either way, he knew something was wrong when the next morning, Rex was eating his food as if it had personally offended him. 

The mess hall consisted of a few tables, some crates for chairs, and the tasteless food that the cooks deemed appropriate, but it was still a hive of activity, and Fives lowered his voice before continuing.

“So,” Fives began, his suspicions growing when Rex didn’t even look up at him. “What happened?”

Rex stabbed hard at his tray, almost snapping his fork in half. “Nothing happened.”

“That’s a bunch of _osik_. You never act like this.”

“Like what?”

Fives stared pointedly at the warped utensil in Rex’s hand. Rex scowled and tossed it towards the waste bin, crossing his arms and meeting Fives’ gaze. “I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

Fives shrugged, a wicked smirk in place, before standing. “Alright. I’ll go ask Skywalker if he knows anything.”

Rex’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Fives’ eyes flashed. “Oh, but I would.”

Echo suddenly spoke up from further down the table, not even looking up from the report he was reading. “I wouldn’t test him, sir. Believe me, he would.”

Rex glared. “Thank you, Echo. For your support.”

“Anytime, Captain.”

Fives snapped his fingers, and the heat of Rex’s glare shifted to him. “I’m serious-“

“I am too.” Rex stood, grabbing his tray and dumping its contents. “I said I’m fine.”

Fives stood also, walking up beside him and leaning in. “Saying it and being it are two different things, _vod_ . When you’re ready to stop being a _di’kut_ and actually talk about your problems, you know where to find me.”

Once outside, Fives took a deep breath, letting out a huff of frustration afterwards. 

_If Skywalker and that kriffing idiot don’t get together soon, I’m going to pull my own hair out._

* * *

Rex was completely, entirely determined to ignore what had happened early that morning. It was almost comically easy to avoid Skywalker.

Until now.

A few troopers had reported suspicious activity in the town they were camped by, and what captain would Rex be if he didn’t go check it out? He went alone, because a squad of clones was pretty obvious in a town as small as this one, but apparently Skywalker had caught wind of it.

They were now caught in a very… _cramped_ position. 

Rex huffed, trying to move his arms but only succeeding in bringing himself closer to Skywalker, and he went rigid. Skywalker’s eyes were closed, listening, and Rex took the opportunity to study his features. Now that he looked closely, he could see freckles across the bridge of his nose, and he shook his head slightly to force himself to focus. 

_Mission first._

The closet they were currently in was _small,_ barely big enough for _one_ man, let alone two, and Skywalker opened his eyes when Rex grunted. “Would you stop that?”

“Sorry, sir.” Rex said snidely. “This wouldn’t be a problem if you would’ve _let me do this alone_.”

Skywalker’s eyes narrowed. “Those are high ranking Separatists. This is bigger than you thought, admit it. If I hadn't come, you would’ve been found and killed. So how about a thank you?”

“Thank you,” Rex cooed mockingly, rolling his eyes and thanking all the gods above that he had his helmet on. Otherwise Skywalker would’ve known long ago how close this proximity was actually affecting him, no matter his sarcasm.

Skywalker tried to shift further away from the door, making Rex gasp as an elbow hit him sharply in the gut. “Ow! What are you _doing_ ?” His back was pressed against the wall, and his arms were pinned by his sides. “ _Stop_ moving!”

“And _you_ stop panicking.” Skywalker snapped, his face _very_ close, and Rex growled. “Quiet down, if they hear us, we’re toast.”

“I’m not the one moving around.” Rex muttered, stiffening further when a hand brushed _low_. 

They were chest to chest, and it was getting increasingly harder to breathe. Rex flexed, only succeeding in making their hips connect _hard_ before he pulled them back fast, biting his lip to stop the sound that threatened to escape him. Skywalker didn’t look any better. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t really think this through. My bad.”

Rex let his head tip back, his helmet hitting the wall with a soft _thud_ as he inhaled sharply, fighting back the feeling of claustrophobia and trying to collect himself. 

“Rex, you good?”

He nodded, or thought he did, and then there was a hand on his helmet, pulling it off and Rex took in an unsteady breath, the cool air hitting his face bringing him back to himself. Skywalker let the helmet slowly, oh so slowly drop until it was on the floor, taking up more space but Rex wasn’t willing to argue. Voices suddenly sounded outside and Skywalker pressed himself impossibly closer, tucking his face into the crook where shoulder met neck, so close that Rex could feel his breath there and he shivered despite himself. 

“Quiet,” Skywalker murmured, and _fierfek,_ he _was_ close, so close that Rex could feel the brush of his lips against his skin, and didn’t _that_ do something to him?

“Sir-“

A finger over his lips, and Rex immediately tensed, not daring to _breathe_ because- _wow, he’d never been_ this _close to anyone besides a brother._ His face was flaming, and he felt hot all over, his armor too tight, too stiff, and he slowly, begrudgingly felt himself relaxing into his Jedi. 

The voices were getting quieter, moving on, but Skywalker still didn’t move, little puffs of air going straight from his lips to Rex’s flushed skin and _yeah, this was how Rex was going to die_. 

“Think they’re gone?” Skywalker was so close Rex could feel the man’s rumble in his own chest, and he swallowed hard, panicking slightly when that forced his throat closer to Skywalker. 

“P-probably so, sir.”

His heart was beating out of control, and Rex took in another precarious breath. Skywalker tilted his head just so, enough that his lips brushed across his skin in the lightest of kisses, and Rex’s skin burned in its wake. 

“What-” He spoke despite himself, but cut off when he felt a hand rub soothingly at his side. 

“Relax, Rex.” Another sweep of those lips, this time with a hint of teeth, and Rex bucked against him, causing Skywalker to laugh quietly, a happy sound. 

A comm beeped, and Skywalker gave a last brushed kiss before he slowly pulled away, catching Rex’s blown eyes one last time before answering, his voice a low murmur. Rex took the opportunity to suck in a stuttering breath, pressing himself hard into the wall, anything to get away from Skywalker and those _sinfully good lips_. 

“Well,” Rex’s gaze snapped back to Skywalker, and his face felt like it was on fire at how casual his Jedi looked, a satisfied smirk in place. “looks like we’re getting reinforcements.”

Rex swallowed harshly, and Skywalker’s eyes followed the motion. “T-that’s good, sir. We can leave now.”

His Jedi studied him for a moment, looking ready to argue, before finally nodding, but something flashed in his eyes.

Was that disappointment, or was Rex just seeing things?

Before he could figure it out, whatever it was was gone, and when Skywalker finally opened the door and backed out of the room, his face was carefully guarded and serious once again. 

“C’mon, we’ll meet the others out front.”

Rex grabbed his helmet, but didn’t put it on, instead bringing up a hand to touch the skin on his neck, and he felt his face heating further. 

_Cody’s gonna have a field day with this._

He stared at Skywalker’s back as they walked, the tension between them palpable, and when it became unbearable, he slid his helmet on, letting the familiar sight of his HUD comfort him. He wanted to be angry, maybe even a little mortified, especially seeing as this man was a _Jedi_ and a _commanding officer_ , but all he felt was the warm feeling in his gut and the way his heart seemed to be trying to beat out of his chest.

And if any of the troopers noticed his wobbly knees when they finally regrouped, well, they said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m so so sorry this took so long, and i’m also sorry it’s so short! school has kicked my ass lately. no joke.
> 
> have an AMAZING day lovelies, you all mean the world to me! <3
> 
> also, feel free to drop any suggestions on what you’d like to see in future chapters! i LOVE feedback of any kind!


	7. when

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex: i pretend i do not see it
> 
> Anakin: *sobbing* let me love you dammit

Anakin tried very hard not to look at him. 

It should be easy. He’s a Jedi, he’s forbidden from attachments, but the ache in his chest betrays him. He glances up, just long enough to see the way his captain worries his bottom lip between his teeth as he studies the holomap, and then he’s dropping his eyes again.

They haven’t talked about the incident, because truth be told, they’ve been too busy, hunting down Separatists and drawing up tactics with no breaks in between. It’s exhausting, and he can _tell_ that Rex has reached his breaking point, his normally golden tan skin paler, his eyes drooping every so often only to widen in an effort to stay awake. 

It’s almost endearing.

“Go get some sleep, Rex.”

Rex started at the sudden interruption, looking up at Anakin and his eyes _shouldn’t be that pretty_ in the dark, golden and gleaming, almost like a flame. It takes his breath away, and he forces himself to fall into the casual, confident general he’s learned to be. 

He still softens his voice, though. “That’s an order.”

“Yes sir.” Rex murmured, stifling a yawn into his gauntlet before grabbing his helmet and slipping from the tent.

Once he’s gone, Anakin lets out a breath, gripping the edge of the crate hard. He didn’t _regret_ what he’d done, far from it, but he’d felt Rex’s tremble, had seen the way his hands had shook, had seen the confusion and wariness in his eyes.

But he’d also seen the one thing that Rex tried so hard to hide.

Trust.

_He trusts me._

The realization sends a pang of warmth through him, and he releases the crate with a deliberate inhale and exhale, but along with that thought comes another.

_I took advantage of him._

Anakin had been too strung up, too _distracted_ by their close proximity, of the hypnotic rise and fall of Rex’s chest, the way his jaw clenched, the small hitched breath he gave as Anakin had pressed closer that he hadn’t even thought to _ask._

_What kind of person am I?_

He leaves the tent more frustrated than he’d entered, and the prospect of his scratchy blanket and hard cot doesn’t seem appealing in the slightest, so he takes a detour to the tent that Kix had claimed for ‘medical’. 

He doesn’t know _why_ he does it, and he’s never been one to reign in his spasmodic tendencies, so he doesn’t question the urge.

Anakin does question it, however, when he is entirely unprepared for the smell that hits him when he enters, and he barely refrains from gagging, quickly covering his mouth and nose with his hand. 

Kix looks up sharply, before relaxing when he sees the slight green to Anakin’s skin. “Never smelled vomit and puss before, sir?”

Anakin shakes his head, letting out a cough before he can stop it. Kix looks amused. “I’ve never, _ah,_ had a reason to be in the field tent. I just assumed…”

Kix cocks his head, waiting for him to finish, and when he doesn’t, he speaks. “Assumed what, sir?”

“I don’t know, that it would be-“ Anakin hesitates before continuing. “ _cleaner_.” 

Kix stares at him long and hard, and Anakin knows that he’s said the wrong thing. He opens his mouth to correct himself, but Kix beats him to it. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted.” 

“We’re clones, sir. Do you know what that means?” It’s obviously a rhetorical question, because Kix immediately continues. “It means that we’re replaceable. We’re invaluable. Their recovery,” Kix sweeps a hand towards the row of troopers laid out around them, a few of the wounded already looking more dead than alive. “doesn’t matter. So do you truly, honestly believe that we would have adequate medical equipment on hand that would be proficient enough to sterilize this tent?”

Anakin blinks, and then Kix is back to being the pacifist, his cheeks reddening. “Sorry, sir. It’s just…” And then his shoulders are slumping, and Kix looks around, gestures vaguely towards a trooper with a missing leg, suddenly more _vulnerable_ than Anakin has ever seen him. “I can’t save them. I’m a medic, and I’m not even given the tools to be what I _need_ to be.” He holds up his bloody hands. “These are the only things that I’ve got at the moment.”

There’s silence after that, save for the occasional moan or groan from the troopers around them. It’s surreal, being surrounded by men that are dying, that are _used_ , and it makes his heart ache. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” He finally murmurs, and then he leaves, because if he stays, the seed of doubt in his mind that _the Republic has failed their men_ will grow even further.

* * *

Rex is no Jedi. 

He can’t _feel_ like his Jedi can, but there’s no denying the way his heart pounds, the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something is _wrong_ and he doesn’t know what, only knows the basest part of him that’s screaming to _hide_ and _run_.

He doesn’t listen.

Because he’s a Captain: His duty is to his men, and he’d be damned if he ever let them face hell alone. 

It’s early morning, the sun is just beginning to rise, and the feeling in his chest is growing until it’s almost _painful_ , and then suddenly, so suddenly that he jumps, the sound of a shot breaks the silence. 

Rex freezes, his muscles tense, coiled, because they’re in their _camp_ , there shouldn’t be any blasters firing. He thinks that maybe it’s an accident, a simple slip of the finger while cleaning a rifle, but then he comes across the body. 

A shot to the heart, smoke still rising and the smell of burnt flesh lingering in the air. Troopers are just coming out of their tents, frantic and _confused_ , and Rex doesn’t even have time to yell _‘stay back, take cover!’_ before another trooper goes down with a grunt, his body twisting from the force of the hit. 

It’s chaos after that, men scrambling for guns, for safety, for orders, and Rex can’t _give any_ because he has _no idea_ what’s going on. 

His training kicks in, and he crouches behind a crate, scanning the perimeter and pausing when he sees the barest hint of movement. 

_Sniper._

“Target spotted. Just south-east of the ‘mess. You got a visual?” 

Fives responds almost immediately, their helmets already connected. “ _Affirmative_ .” He whistles, his voice low. “ _My my, he_ is _a naughty boy. He’s loaded with a DLT-20A. Good luck getting close.”_

Rex grunted, squinting against the blinding rays of the sun. “He certainly picked a good time. Commendable.”

Somewhere behind him, another trooper goes down with a yelp.

“ _Agreed. He's a professional. Military?”_

“The Separatists don’t have the droids capable of that firepower, even with the commandos. My guess is hired.”

“ _Your expectations always have been higher than mine.”_

Rex doesn’t respond, eyeing the strip of trees off to the side. “I need a distraction.”

“ _That sounds like a personal problem.”_

“Fives,” Rex growled.

_“Alright, alright. Me and Echo have this. Go.”_

Rex bolts just as a volley of fire coats the ridge where the sniper was set up- _Five and Echo-_ and he curses his bright armor as he tries to stay low. His legs burn from the strain of crouching, and he swings wide to come up behind the shooter, carefully picking his way through the plant life so as to not make unnecessary noise. 

Then he catches sight of the sniper.

 _Mandalorian_.

He’s close now, so close that he can see the crimson armor, can see the tattered cape draped over one shoulder, and he slowly, quietly draws his pistol. 

A blur of movement, and his legs are swept out from under him.

Rex grunts as he hits the ground _hard_ and begins to sit up, but immediately stiffens when he feels the vibroblade at his throat. The T-shaped visor staring down at him is nothing new, but the ominous markings on the helmet are completely unique, and Rex stays _very_ still.

The helmet cocks to one side, assessing. Rex doesn’t rush, he knows better than that, and instead let’s the man take his time. He doesn’t take too long. 

“Captain.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and although the man seems relaxed and at ease, the blade at his throat is unyielding. The voice is surprisingly young and amused, but deep with an underlying accent that Rex can’t quite place. However, he sounds _familiar_ , and it’s unsettling. 

“Assassin.” Rex snaps back, barely containing an aborted buck of his hips to upset the man above him. Such a move would mean a slit throat, and he’s not too keen on that idea. “What, you run out of Senators to harass?”

The blade digs further into the tender skin at his neck. “Something like that.”

Rex waits, but the man makes no further move, seemingly in no rush despite the shouts coming from the camp just beyond. It’s frustrating, because the Mandalorian is just _staring_ at him, as if he’s never seen a clone trooper before, and it irks Rex to no end. “Well? What’re you waiting for?”

“Fortunately for you,” the Mandalorian ignores the question, lifting the vibroblade ever so slightly, just high enough that Rex can finally see the wicked blade gleaming in the light. “I am limited in the number of bodies I leave.” The blade disappears from view, and Rex can finally _breathe_. But then his brain catches up.

“Who are you? Who hired you?” He needs to get answers, to get the man talking, but like Fives said, the man was a professional.

The Mandalorian pressed down _hard_ on his chest plate, so hard that it forced the air from his lungs and he sucked in a desperate breath. “I’m nobody.” The pressure let’s up, just the slightest bit, and Rex growls when the Mandalorian finally releases him, turning to grab the rifle he’d left at Rex’s arrival. “And I'd like to think you’re smart enough to know who hired me.”

Rex sat up carefully, wary of another attack. The Mandalorian turns at the movement, the visor giving nothing away, but Rex had the feeling that he was being eyed. 

“Don’t follow me.” The assassin held up Rex’s pistol before tossing it to him. Rex caught it with ease, discreetly checking it over for any tamperings. “And don’t speak of this. It could end badly for both of us.”

When Rex looked back up, but the assassin was already going, sprinting towards the battlefield they’d just won. Towards the shipyard.

“ _Rex, do you have him?”_

“Negative.” A last flash of crimson disappeared over the ridge. “But I have a description.”

* * *

_Stupid, stupid, stupid-_

He slipped, coating his armor with the thick, gloppy mud that seemed to coat every inch of the gods-forsaken planet he was on. Adrenaline made his thoughts fleeting and erratic, but he didn’t let it affect him too much.

Captain Rex would be alerting every Republic trooper on the planet of his presence _very_ soon, and he had a limited window to get his ship and _get the kark out of there_. 

_Should’ve killed him, shouldn’t have let the Count limit the targets, should’ve-_

He slipped again, this time landing on his hands and knees, and he snarled at the feeling of mud soaking through his gloves. 

_I’m better than this._

He knows that. Knows that for a fact, because Dooku never would have hired him otherwise. 

But the Count is a Sith.

He hadn’t counted on that. 

_Damn Force users. Always kriffing up the galaxy one way or another._

He got to his feet quickly, glancing back just to be sure he wasn’t being followed before continuing on his way. His ship was just ahead, locked up in the yards, all he had to do was kill the guards-

_Can’t kill ‘em. Improvise._

He growled but slowed his pace, taking a deep breath to slow the rise and fall of his chest until he could resume his normal saunter. The guards- two civilians- looked at each other cautiously as he approached, their hands automatically going to rest on the blasters holstered at their hips. _Naive little things, aren’t they?_

“Morning’” He drawled, tipping his head towards the closest guard. The man nodded back warily. “Just here to get my-“

The comm clipped to their belts suddenly both beeped before he could finish. “ _This is General Skywalker of the Grand Army of the Republic. Code red. Let no one into the shipyard. Repeat, code re-“_

“Ah, kriff it.” He murmured, bringing his fist up hard under one of the man’s chin at the same time he ejected the vibroblade, twisting his wrist and only releasing the body when he heard the telltale _snap_ of his neck and the spurt of blood that followed. 

His own helmet comm chimed. _“Ryker, where are you-“_

“I thought we agreed to keep it to a no-name basis,” Ryker growled, and the other guard shrieked at the death of his comrade, scrambling for his blaster, and Ryker lunged forward and gripped his head between his hands before twisting sharply, letting the body fall unceremoniously when it went limp. “and cool it. I’m almost done.” 

Ventress laughed, and the shrill sound spurred on the headache that had already formed. “ _I do love a man that works fast._ ” 

He reached the _Ravager_ and punched in the access code, bounding up the ramp and scaling the rickety ladder into the cockpit. “Watch it, witch. I want nothing to do with you.”

Ventress gave a mock sigh. “ _Pity. I would so_ love _to see the man under the armor_.” Ryker opened his mouth to retaliate but Ventress spoke first. “ _Relax, all jokes. You really should loosen up more.”_

“What do you want?” The ship came to life with a low _hum_ , and he set the coordinates to Dooku’s ship almost automatically. 

_“You’re a smart one,”_ Another short laugh. He was tempted to disconnect. _“My master expects a_ full _report as soon as you arrive_. _”_

“I know the drill.”

_“He expects you within the-“_

“I’ll be there when I’ll be there.” Ryker snarled, ending the call and practically ripping his helmet off, letting it fall to the durasteel with a sharp _clang_. 

He sucked in a deep breath, one after the other, only stopping when his heart returned to a normal pace and his skin wasn’t crawling with unease. A glance down at his armor made him cringe, and he slowly peeled off his chest-plate, picking up the rag he’d discarded from the last time he’d cleaned the beskar. 

It was usually mindless, relaxing work, and he could always get lost in it, could let go of his latest mission and just _breathe_.

Except this time, he was on edge. 

And with good reason.

* * *

“So he’s a ghost.” Anakin hummed, glancing up at his captain, pleased when their eyes _finally_ locked. 

Rex nodded and dropped his gaze, and Anakin squashed down the disappointment. Truth be told, he hadn’t really been _listening_ to the whole briefing that Rex had given, instead distracted by the way his nose scrunched when he was particularly frustrated, by the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips every so often, by the way his captain’s hands moved deftly across the map as he pointed out relay points the assassin had crossed, and _damn, he had it bad._

Anakin starts at the tentative “Sir?”, blinking to clear his head. Rex stares back at him, his golden eyes looking _entirely too pretty_ for the dusty tent they’re in. Anakin has to avert his eyes.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

Rex nods and goes back to studying the holomap, biting his bottom lip. Anakin let out a harsh breath. Startled, Rex looked up. “Sir? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Anakin choked out, looking anywhere, _everywhere_ , but not at him. 

_Why’s it so hot in here?_

Rex looks unconvinced, but finally seems to buy it, looking back down. If Anakin grits his teeth so hard they _hurt_ when Rex leans further against the dusty makeshift table, his captain doesn’t notice. 

_Talk about the closet incident._

The thought pops up randomly, and Anakin immediately looks up, eyes the bronze skin of Rex’s neck before swallowing hard. “Hey, Rex? Can I… talk to you?”

Rex looked up sharply, and a pang of _nervousness_ hit him through the force.

_Great. You scared him. Nice job._

Okay, yeah, maybe not the _best_ way to start a conversation. But now he has his attention. 

“Of course, sir.”

Anakin really _shouldn’t_ want to kiss the _kark_ out of him just for the simple, trusting sentence alone, but he does, and he has to forcefully push his desires down and lock them away, instead letting the Force soothe and calm him. “I wanted to apologize for my actions in that closet.”

Rex blinked, his cheeks heating, and he looked down. “It’s fine, sir. It was the only way to avoid detection.”

No, that was wrong. Inhaling Rex’s heady scent, kissing that sinfully soft skin, hearing the hitched breaths, the way his own heart had pounded so hard it had _hurt_ , the shiver that had raked down Rex’s entire frame as his teeth grazed his neck, that had not been the only way to avoid detection. Anakin had been selfish. But he didn’t regret it.

“Thank you, Rex. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

 _Rex’s_ eyes were now everywhere but him, darting around as if he was searching for an escape, and Anakin slowly advanced until he was standing before him. Those golden eyes still weren’t on him, and Anakin frowned slightly. “Rex?”

His captain sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing, and the Force swirled around him in a nervous, anxious wave. Anakin carefully, slowly leaned forward, not stopping until his forehead gently touched Rex’s. Rex’s eyes flew open, gold meeting blue, and the little inhale he took made Anakin’s heart skip a happy beat before starting up again sloppily.

_Sap._

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.” He murmured softly, momentarily distracted by the heat of Rex’s skin on his own. It was exhilarating, empowering, and he wanted more than anything to just lean a little further, a little closer, until their lips brushed.

_You’ll ruin everything you’ve worked for._

Anakin let his eyes slip shut, collected his thoughts, and when he opened his eyes again, Rex was studying him, a blush still coating his cheeks, almost unnoticeable with his tan skin. “I’m sorry for being selfish.” He finished.

Rex’s breath stuttered. “I-it’s okay, sir.”

Anakin let himself linger a little longer, just long enough to feel as much as _Rex_ as he can, because he’s _still_ selfish, but only when it comes to his captain. And then he pulls away, not even trying to stop the content smile on his face, and Rex gives him a small smile in return.

_He’s beautiful._

When had he started thinking like that? When had he started to feel this… _deeply_?

And then the moment breaks, and Rex looks away, swallowing harshly. “I need to go check on the men.”

Anakin beams at the absence of the ‘sir’, and he nods. “Go ahead, Rex. And tell them to pack their things. We leave at 0400.”

And even after Rex leaves, Anakin is still smiling. Because maybe he _is_ a sap, but if being a sap gets him the small, _breathtaking_ smile that Rex gave, then he guesses he can’t stop, now can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryker is my new OC! He’s not the main character, but he WILL play a role in the plot (which is about to thicken, by the way). Also, say goodbye to the last of the fluff for at least two or three chapters. Y’all are about to hate me lmao. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comment any interactions you want to see between Anakin and Rex!
> 
> Have an amazing day lovelies <3


	8. i’m

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t want him to leave.
> 
> He does anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please note that most of the dialogue is straight from the episodes, save for a few tweaks here and there from me. enjoy :)

They all have the nightmares.

He knows, because he’s witnessed more than one brother waking up with a fervently whispered _“good soldiers follow orders_ ” before their breath hitches, and then it’s his job to comfort them.

He, however, has never had the nightmare for himself. 

Until tonight.

He’s somewhere between awake and asleep, and he can feel his heat racing, can feel the thin sheets under him, but he can't wake up, and all he can see is _him_ , those blue eyes, the _lightsaber_ , and he’s handing it to him, and then Obi-Wan is moving away, smiling at him so softly, so intimately, and he's reassuring him, he thinks.

He gets an order, but his thoughts are muddled, heavy, and he feels himself raise his arm, feels himself point- _pointing to Obi-Wan, to his Jedi, his general, and he wants to scream and yell but all he can do is_ follow orders- before he says the one thing he _doesn’t_ want to say. _“Blast him.”_

Cody wakes with a strangled sound, sitting up fast, sweat rolling in rivets down his body, the image of his Jedi’s body falling burned into his mind like a brand. His throat is tight, his vision blurred by tears, and his hands are shaking, but he nevertheless forces himself to stand, gulping in a harsh breath once he’s up. 

He has his own quarters, there’s no need to be quiet, but he stills shoves a fist in his mouth, biting down to stop the keen that threatened to escape. 

_It’s just a nightmare…_

But the cold feeling in his chest doesn’t go away, and he shivers, carefully glancing around his small quarters. 

Cody jumps at the knock on his door.

“Cody?”

Oh. _Oh,_ fierfek, it was _him_. Of course he’d felt Cody, the man was a Jedi Master, so in tune to his Commander's emotions due to campaign after campaign on the battlefield together, and Cody cursed quietly, inhaling raggedly and swiping at his face. 

“Cody, are you okay?”

He hurriedly tugs on the top half of his blacks, throwing on his chest-plate just to hide the uneven rise and fall of his chest, and he wipes his face on his sleeve before opening the door.

Blue eyes meet amber, and Obi-Wan frowns before looking behind Cody and into the room. Their eyes meet again. “Are you okay? I felt a-“

“I’m fine, general.” Cody is impressed with how even his voice is, how put together he sounds, but his expression falls when Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow.

_I’ve never been able to lie to him._

“I am a Jedi, Cody.” Obi-Wan’s voice has always helped to settle his frazzled nerves, and Cody finds himself relaxing at the smooth Coruscant lilt. “I can feel emotions.” Kenobi reaches out a hand, and Cody forces himself to stay still as it comes to rest on his chest-plate, right above his heart. 

Cody wonders if he can feel how hard it’s pounding, can feel the way it skips a beat at the contact, and he's _never been untrusting of his Jedi, never,_ but he feels himself pulling away before he can reveal himself further. His Jedi looks a little disappointed, letting his hand fall back to his side. “I know, sir.”

There suddenly isn’t enough air, and Cody tries to discreetly take in a gasp of it, but he thinks he fails miserably at the sad frown Kenobi gives him.

“My dear Cody,” How many times had he been called that? How many times had Obi-Wan showed him his affection? Affection that he didn’t deserve? It makes a few rebellious tears spring to his eyes. “How many times must I tell you that you can trust me? I only want to help you. I'm not your General right now.” Kenobi's eyes flash with something. "I'm your friend."

And _oh, Cody believes him,_ he does, but he also isn't naive enough to think that he's anything more than a soldier. Kenobi is always his General, always, no matter the day or the hour, and his greatest struggle is trying to distinguish the difference between _General_ and _friend_ when they intertwine so intricately.

He's always trusted him- _his_ Jedi, the one with the kind eyes and the gentle soul- from the moment they'd met. And it's not that he's _stopped,_ it's the fact that his feelings are growing and growing and growing and _his chest shouldn't ache when he looks at him,_ but it does, and Cody is scared. Scared of himself, of the potential harm that could befall him or Kenobi, of the rejection that would surely come if his feelings were made known. The nightmare precedes all of them, though.

“I do trust you.” He assures automatically, a little too quickly.

“Then tell me why you're afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Obi-Wan takes a step so they’re close, so close that if Cody just leaned a little closer, their foreheads would bump together. “Yes you are.” Fingertips, warm and calloused settle on his temple, and Cody knows exactly what his Jedi is doing. He lets him anyway.

His general’s eyes are closed in concentration as he searches, his lips pursed, and he hums softly when he apparently finds what he’s looking for.

Obi-Wan opens his eyes, but doesn’t remove his touch, instead letting it slide down until he’s touching Cody’s jaw, a soft caress, and Cody twitches with the need to pull away, to save his reputation _and_ Obi-Wan’s, to not let the man make a mistake. “It was a dream, Cody. It's not real.”

_But it could be._

“I know."

"Then what's wrong?"

 _For starters, the fact that you have no idea what you're doing to me. The fact that I can never be enough for you, for you or for anyone. The fact that in my dream, I kill you. Your blood is on my hands, and I can't deal with that, can't deal with_ you. _I can't-_ won't _hurt you. Not ever._

But he doesn't say that. Instead, Cody smiles. It's so forced that it physically _hurts_ , but he presses on anyway. "Nothing. Just a little stressed is all."

Obi-Wan's hand leaves and returns to his side, and Cody mourns its warmth. "Alright. Try to get some more rest, Cody."

"Yes, sir."

By the time the door slides shut and Kenobi's footsteps retreat down the hall, Cody's impenetrable walls are back in place, almost as if they'd never lowered at all.

* * *

Umbara is cold. That's the first thing Rex notices.

But not cold in a physical sense, no, it's… he can't even _explain_ it. But he can feel it, in his chest, a dark, cold sense of _dread_ that he can't shake.

It only grows once they're planet-side.

Skywalker is in front of them, but Rex can barely see him between the green bolts raining down on them and the luminescent plant life all around them.

"I can't even see the enemy!" Tup yells, ducking down and narrowly avoiding a blaster bolt to the face.

"That's why they're called the Shadow People, Tup." Jesse says dryly, grabbing Tup's arm and steering him towards cover. 

_It only gets worse from here._

* * *

Rex knows when he sees him that _he_ is the darkness he's been feeling.

Pong Krell has a reputation, one that precedes him and Rex finds himself looking to Skywalker for reassurance almost immediately. His Jedi's face gives nothing away, and his voice is respectful when he speaks. 

"Master Krell, my thanks for the air support."

Rex eyes the Jedi before him carefully, noting the slight twitch of Krell's lips as he eyes the 501st. 

_Can no one else feel what I'm feeling?_

"Indeed General Skywalker," Even his _voice_ caused the hairs on his neck to stand on end, and he glanced at Skywalker again, a wordless plea. "The locals have proven to be more resourceful than we anticipated."

Skywalker hesitates, glances over at Rex, and their eyes meet and hold. Rex's mistrust and confusion is mirrored in those clear blue orbs before Skywalker breaks his gaze and looks back to Krell. "But that's not the reason for your visit," he drawled slowly.

Krell shakes his head, his voice hard. "No. The Council has ordered you back to Coruscant, effective immediately."

Rex bristled, his throat tightening and he quickly had to school his features. Skywalker was just as upset. "What? Wh-why?"

_Yeah, why?_

"I'm afraid a request was made by the Supreme Chancellor, and the Council obliged." Krell didn't _sound_ afraid, or apologetic for that matter, and the cold feeling within Rex expanded until he thought it would _snap_. "That is all they would tell me."

Skywalker scoffed, gesturing to Rex, who stiffened under the attention. "Well, I can't just leave my _men_."

Krell's voice changed into a comforting tone. _Fake._ "I'll be taking over in the interim."

Those yellow eyes suddenly shifted to Rex, and he tensed. A burning sensation pushed its way into his mind, and he gasped softly, the almost too quiet order to _reassure him_ and _speak_ most definitely not his own. "Dont," Rex hesitated, fought the force, _no_ , the _Force_ , that made him speak, but gave in when another wave of pain assaulted him. "worry about a thing, sir. We'll have this city under Republic control by the time you're back." Once done, the feeling seeped away, and Rex let out a soft exhale. 

_DId I imagine that?_

"Master Krell, this is Rex, my first in command." Skywalker gestured towards him again, and Rex stood taller, lifting his chin and staring up into those _yellow,_ yellow eyes. He repressed his shiver. "You won't find a finer or more loyal trooper anywhere."

A warm feeling settled in his stomach at the praise despite the situation, and his General offered him a small smile before looking away again.

"Good to hear that," Krell said dismissively, and Rex blinked slightly. "I wish you well, Skywalker."

Fives came up beside Rex and leaned in close, keeping his voice a low murmur. "He's in an awful hurry to get rid of the General, don't you think?"

Rex didn't answer, instead watched his Jedi nod and walk to the gunship. The further he walked, the colder Rex got, and he took an aborted step forward before stopping himself.

_Please, sir-_

The gunship started to lift off, and Skywalker caught his eye one last time.

_Please don't leave me…_

Then he was gone, and Krell watched them go, staring after the ship with an almost unreadable expression.

_I need you, sir._

Fives nudged him with his elbow, and Rex cleared his throat before stepping up next to Krell. The Jedi didn't even look at him. 

_Say somethin'._

"Your reputation precedes you, General." The words tasted like ash on his tongue, but he forced them out anyway. "It is an honor to be serving you."

Krell was silent a moment before turning away from him. "I find it very interesting, Captain, that you are able to recognize the value of honor, for a clone."

Krell’s attitude shifts in a blink. Rex's heart stops even as his breath quickens.

_Oh gods, please no-_

"Stand at attention when I address you."

_-not another one like her._

He obeyed without question, his eyes flickering from _forward_ to Krell, the fear surging through his veins not lessening as the Jedi continued. "Your flattery is duly noted, but it will _not_ be rewarded."

_I didn't want a reward…_

"There's a reason my command is so effective." Krell sneered, walking forward to circle Fives, who looked equally as sick as Rex. "And it's because I do things by the book. And that includes protocol." No one dared to move, and Fives shot Rex a pleading look as Krell moved on.

"Have all platoons ready to move out immediately. That is all."

He leaves, but Rex doesn't relax, doesn't fall into the _at ease_ that so normally came naturally. He swallowed harshly, and he opened his mouth when Fives looked at him again, but no words came out. 

"Rex," Fives looked just as at a loss as him, his face slack with worry and fear. The _very same fear_ he'd seen all his troopers wear, more specifically, with _Pralua_. "What do we do?"

Only one thought prevailed over all. 

_Follow orders._

* * *

"Quicken that pace, battalion!"

Rex wanted to protest, because they were so tired, so exhausted, and Tup looked on the verge of a panic attack, confused and worried, his too-young face twisted in fear _._

"This isn't some training course on Kamino."

 _That's for damn sure,_ he thought angrily. 

But Rex kept making excuses, trying to stop an uprising, because whether Krell is the acting General or not, Skywalker left Rex in charge. He'd trusted him, and Rex would never violate that trust. "He's just trying to keep us on schedule." Rex knows it's a lie, and so does Fives. "Either way, he's in charge, and we've got a job to do. Just treat him with respect, and we'll all get along fine."

He leaves off the _don't make him angry or else we'll all pay for it_ , because Fives knows it anyway.

Fives freezes. "Do you see that?"

"Yeah, ready your weapons!" 

The unholy screech of the unknown creatures cause a chill to run down his spine, and his men obey, raising their blasters and holding their positions.

The creatures are fast and deadly efficient, two unlucky troopers being snatched up almost immediately. Rex only registers that _Kix_ had been one grabbed when Jesse makes a pained noise and starts to pursue.

But Krell beats him to it, leaping into the air and bringing one creature down, then two, an impressive display of strength that leaves a few clones hanging back warily. One of the creatures whines pitifully, and Rex is about to put it out of its misery before Krell stomps forward, crushing its skull in one smooth motion. Rex takes a surprised step back.

"Anyone else want to stop and play with the animals?" Those yellow eyes are on him again, and this time, Rex doesn't break it, staring right back and refusing to back down. "Didn't think so. Now keep moving!"

Jesse is still crouched next to Kix, coaxing the medic to take deep breaths, helping him to his feet, and Rex feels a pang in his chest when he hears Kix's panicked breaths. Rex and Fives share a look. They shouldn't be moving so soon.

They do anyway.

* * *

Kix’s breath is still ragged, even after the distance they've put behind them. "Sir, we've been keeping this pace for twelve hours. The men are getting worn down."

The _I can't make it much further_ was received all the same, and Rex nodded. "We should rest."

However, his stomach twists in knots at having to face the Jedi in front of him. Rex pushes himself to do it anyway. "General Krell, the top of this ridge will make a good place for the men to make camp."

"The men don't need rest." Comes the immediate response. "They need the resolve to complete the task at hand."

Rex comes to one unsurprising conclusion. Pong Krell was exactly like Pralua, and he wonders if maybe she had been his Padawan. There was no other explanation for the pure cruelty and distaste that the man possessed for his brothers. "But sir-"

"CT-7567," Rex stiffens but bites down the growl at his number. "Are you reading me?"

He's _so karking tired_ , and he's so done, and he doesn't stop the incredulous tone of his voice. “Excuse me, sir?"

"I asked you a question, CT-7567. Do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?"

“Sir, the terrain is extremely hostile,” he argues. “Despite the difficulty of the conditions, the battalion is making good time. These men just… need a little _break_.”

“ _Captain_ ,” Krell shoves an accusing finger at him, whirling, and Rex takes a step back, flinching when Krell invades his space. “Do I need to remind you of this battalion's strategic mission in conquering this planet?”

He doesn’t, because he was there, he heard the report, he _knew_ how important they were, but that’s exactly why he wanted to stop.

“Look back,” Krell orders, and Rex complies, not liking having his back to the Jedi. “See those platoons? Their mission is to take this city and take it swiftly.”

Rex turned to face him again, barely holding back the urge to step back when Krell pounding his fists together. “Time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford. _We_ are the key to this invasion.” Krell is getting more worked up, getting angrier, and Rex just stares silently, working out possible ways to butt in without getting his head taken off for it. “The other battalions are counting on our support!”

_He’s not wrong. The 212th is out there somewhere._

“If _we_ fail, everyone fails. Do you understand this?”

Rex feels… intimidated. He didn’t want to admit it, hadn’t wanted to with Pralua either, but he is, and he feels belittled, degraded. He’d told himself he’d never feel that again.

“Do _all of you_ understand this?”

As if they’re dumb, mindless droids, stupid, uneducated civvies that didn’t know a blaster from a mop.

The others are deathly still, and their fear mingles with Rex’s own in a sickening way. 

“Then _move on!_ ”

Slowly, painfully, Rex looks back at them and nods, swallowing down his protest. 

He pretends to not hear Fives’ curse.

* * *

“But sir, General Skywalkers plan was to surprise them with multiple attacks. If we come in from the main route, they’re likely to engage us in a full frontal assault.”

It was the plan he and Skywalker had come up with together, the plan that had the _best_ possible outcome. 

Krell sneered. “Change of plans, Captain. I’m in command now.”

The finality in his tone makes Rex blink. “With all due respect, General, we don’t know what we’re up against. It might be wiser to think first.”

Krell reels on him, his lips twisted in a snarl, and Rex jumps. “Are you questioning my order? You will not stop and you will not turn back no matter the resistance you meet. We will attack them with all our troops, not some sneak attack with a few men. That is my order, and you will follow it explicitly.” Then Krell is lunging forward, and Rex has the briefest moment of panic that has him stumbling back. “Do I make myself clear, CT-7567?”

Rex lowers his head reluctantly. “Yes, General.”

 _His_ Jedi would never do something so rash, so _foolish_ , and he reminds himself harshly that this man isn’t Skywalker, this is a true Jedi. Skywalker had spoiled him, so much so that he’d let himself become soft. 

_I’m sorry, vod_.

He wants to say it aloud, because he knows that by the end of this, over half of them will be dead, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

Rex has never thought of himself as strong anyway.

* * *

It was a bosh plan from the start, and Rex breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the “ _they’re falling back”._

His relief is short lived. General Krell strides forward, almost knocking over Fives on the way. “CT-7567, do you have a malfunction in your design?” 

Rex holsters his pistols and opens his mouth to defend himself but Krell continues.

“You pulled your forces back from taking the capital city. The enemy now has control of this route. This entire operation has been compromised, because of _your failure_ !” The jabbing of Krell’s fingers sends him back a few steps, and he’s never felt so hopelessly _alone._ The troopers around him are quiet, watching, and finally Fives steps up for the first time since this campaign began.

“General Krell, in case you haven’t _noticed_ , Captain Rex just saved this platoon.”

_No, Fives. Don’t make him angry._

Rex can see the change in Krell’s eyes, the way they harden, the _hate_ that swirls within them, and it causes a pang of _fear_ to lodge deep within his chest. 

“Surely you won’t _fail_ to recognize _that_.” Fives snarls, and Rex can only imagine the glare he’s sporting. 

Krell turns. “ARC-5555,” The lightsaber ignites in a brilliant green glow, and Rex’s senses go haywire, panic rising within him. “Stand down.”

_He would kill us._

Rex knows it, knows it just as surely as he does that he’s probably not going to make it out of this campaign alive.

He can hear the growl in Fives’ voice. “Sir, yes, sir.”

Quickly, so Krell can’t change his mind, Rex steps in front of Fives, gaining the Jedi’s attention. “Sir, if I may address your accusation, I followed your orders, even in the face of a plan that was, _in my opinion_ , severely flawed. A plan that cost us men, not clones.” He doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so angry, but all the emotions he’d carefully kept in check are now bubbling over. “ _Men_. As sure as it is my duty to remain loyal to your command, I also have another duty. To protect those men.”

The lightsaber is thumbed off without preamble. “You have a spark of tenacity, Captain. I’ll give you that. I know that I don’t command like the Jedi you’re used to serving-“ _which is wrong, so wrong, because Krell is_ exactly _like the other Jedi that Rex has served-_ “Certainly not like General Skywalker.”

The name sent a pang of longing through him, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat.

_I miss him._

“But I have my way.” The hard, demanding tone was back. “It may be difficult, but these are difficult times. And it’s proven effective. I suppose your loyalty to your men is to be commended. They seem to admire it. That’s important to an effective commander.” Then the Jedi crosses his arms and raises his chin. “Alright, Captain Rex, your opinion has been noted. Dismissed.”

Fives snorts when Krell finally stalks away. “I think he almost complimented you.”

Rex rolled his eyes. “It’s hard to tell.”

“Incoming!”

A missile exploded close by, sending a few troopers flying into the air, their screams momentarily distracting him.

_Why isn’t Skywalker here?_

It just made no _sense_ . Even if it _had_ been an order directly from the Chancellor, why would his Jedi up and _leave them_ on a strange planet with a _psychotic_ General? He’d thought that Skywalker would have at least argued more, had tried to come to an agreement that let him stay a little longer.

A bolt passed dangerously close to his helmet and he dodged, almost bumping into Fives in the process. 

“They’ve regrouped!” Fives barked, his tone bordering on panic as more and more of their men were gunned down.

 _Yeah_ , Rex thought dryly, _no shit._

* * *

Kix is a medic.

Which, in retrospect, isn’t the most _detached_ job, but he’s never really had a problem with it.

But then again, he's never been this exhausted, and he's never been so overwhelmed.

Men are dropping like flies, and he chooses a trooper at random, carefully injecting a stim at the juncture between neck and shoulder. "That'll help with the pain. You're going to be fine."

The trooper doesn't answer, and Kix moves on before his mind has time to catch up with the fact that he's not saving them. He's just prolonging their deaths. 

He glances up at Krell long enough to see the Jedi kick a dead trooper out of his way, his mouth twisted in disgust, and it causes a righteous anger to fester deep within him.

"M-medic!"

He forces himself to tear his gaze away and move. Umbara is confusing, and more than once he's had to do a double take after passing a wounded trooper hidden by the shadows. It's almost surreal, the bolts flying all around them and the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the way his head pounds and his legs ache from walking, but Kix can't stop.

Because Kix is a medic.

And he's never hated his purpose more than he has now.

* * *

Rex, despite all of his failings, has never doubted a General.

Not even Pralua or Korvis.

 _Maybe_ it’s because it’s been bred into him, and _maybe_ it’s because he’s been taught since he was a child that Jedi were _sacred_ and something to be respected, but he would like to think that his loyalty has never swayed or been tested.

Which, now that he thinks about it, is wrong. 

Because he _does not_ trust Krell, and, mere seconds ago, he found himself doubting the Jedi’s sanity. 

_Maybe he was dropped as a younglin’_.

He’d once heard someone say that everyone is a product of their environment, a consequence to an action, and he’d never really believed it until now. 

He just wonders what Krell has to have been through to make him so _kriffing_ cold.

“ _Remember General Krell, the entire invasion depends on your battalion.”_

Rex mourns the loss of a familiar- _trusted_ \- face as Kenobi’s holo flickers out, and Krell’s demon-like eyes are on him again. 

“Captain Rex, have those coordinates mapped and all troops ready to move out immediately.”

He bites his tongue to stop from pointing out that they’re currently in a _firefight,_ that they haven’t rested since they’d landed here, and instead says, “Yes, General.”

* * *

“We don’t have time for a more secure route.” 

Rex is entirely convinced that the man’s insane. Now more than ever. 

Sending only _one squad at a time_ straight towards the enemy in a _full-frontal assault_ is suicide. He knows it, and Krell knows it.

_It’d be a lot better if he was down there fighting with us._

Rex hesitates, fights down the urge to resist. “Yes, sir.”

He tells himself the blood won’t be on his hands. 

He doesn’t believe it.

* * *

Kix says what everyone's thinking. 

“The casualties are going to be _high_.”

Tup chimes in. “Is Krell trying to get us _killed_?”

_I don’t know._

And then there’s bickering among them all, the battalion split until troopers are arguing about _who’s right_ and _who’s wrong._

“A few of General Skywalkers plans seemed reckless too,” Rex argues, raising his voice to be heard above the din. “And they worked.”

“Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front, not bringing up the rear like General _Krell_.”

 _General Skywalker isn’t_ here _right now._

Skywalker’s command seems like a distant thing, a mere echo of what a good Jedi should be, what a good _leader should be_ . He can’t help the betrayed feelings that arises as Fives argues _against_ him. He’d thought they were closer than that.

“Fives.” He jerks his head to the side, waiting until Fives joins him out of earshot to speak. “It would help if you’d ease their minds.”

_They listen to you. They respect you._

However, the answer that crosses Fives face tells him the message hadn’t been received. “Oh,” his voice is dripping with sarcasm. “you mean coax them into following another one of Krell’s suicide missions? We lost a _lot_ of men last time.”

 _You don’t think I know that? You don’t think I noticed every trooper that fell? Every_ **_brother_ ** _that fell?_

Rex can’t think of anything to say, so he reverts to his genetic code. _Trust the Jedi. Defend them._ “He’s a decorated war hero.” It sounds weak even to his own ears.

Fives scoffs, stabbing an accusative finger at his chest. “He may have had some victories, but have you seen his casualty number? More troopers have been killed under his command than _anyone else_.

_I know._

He sighs, because he's tired, tired of defending the monster that Krell was, tired of _not having_ his _Jedi with him._ “That’s the price of war, Fives. We’re soldiers-“ _slaves._ “-and we have a duty to follow orders, and, if we must, lay down our lives for victory.”

Rex turned, but startled as Fives gripped his arm. “Do you believe that? Or is that what you were engineered to think?”

Rex’s mind blanks, and the cold feeling in his guts _snaps_ , sending tendrils of _fear doubt anger confusion pain need_ spiraling throughout, and the primal instinct to defend himself nearly overwhelming. “I honor my code.” He shakes off the hand on his arm. “That’s what I believe.”

 _Liar_ , a voice taunts from somewhere deep inside, and nausea settles in, thick and overpowering.

He’s too exhausted to correct it.

* * *

His muscles are burning, his legs aching, and the trooper in his arms screams as Kix drags him over a particularly bumpy part of the terrain. “Sorry, sorry,” he pants, giving a final heave before gently setting the trooper to lay with the others.

The others that immediately perked up when they caught sight of him. 

“K-Kix, how we doin’ out there?” A trooper rasps. 

Kix glances over his shoulder, sees a squad of troopers go down in a violent spray of limbs and plastoid, and immediately turns back around, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Holding on, for the moment.”

_The 501st will be wiped out._

The trooper grunts and shifts before holding out a hand. “Got an extra stim?”

He rummaged around in his pack before nodding, carefully placing it in the trooper’s hand. 

Kix had just stood to go back for more wounded when he and the others froze.

 _Incoming, incoming incoming incomingincomingincoming_ **_incoming_ ** _-_

He scrambles for the nearest trooper, grabbing him by the shoulder straps and yanking hard to gain momentum, dragging him away from the group and towards the safety of the plant life teeming beyond, ignoring his own animalistic need to _escape_.

The other troopers watch him go, some trying to stand and follow, others letting their heads fall back with a defeated _thump_. Everyone knows what that sound means.

_I’m so sorry, vod._

The bomb lands a millisecond earlier than Kix had anticipated, and the aftershocks, even from the distance he’d traveled, throw him off his feet, his grip on the trooper slackening as they’re both thrown forward. 

_Please forgive me._

All that remained of the temporary station he had set up was a few scattered pieces of armor, a lone helmet, and other _objects_ that he tried hard not to identify. 

Kix stays down, breathes in, breathes out, curls his hands around the dirt beneath him, feels it sift elegantly through his fingers, counts to ten, counts backwards, he does _everything he’s been told to do._ And his heart still races, his limbs still feel heavy and useless, and his brain is still scrambled and panicked. 

The trooper he’d thought he saved was still and silent beside him, and he already knew he was gone too. 

_Probably shock._

And then there’s a familiar helmet above him, the republic cog adorning it shining through the haze of his mind.

_Jesse._

The ringing in his ears lessened. “-e? Kix, Kix, hey, stay with me, you’re okay. Can you hear me? Deep breaths, calm down, _vod_ , you’re safe.” Jesse’s voice is tense, stressed, and he keeps glancing up, checking their surroundings, and it irritates Kix enough to return him to his senses, his throat easing its incessant tensing until air can finally enter his lungs. 

“‘m fine.” He manages to croak, making a move to sit up and groaning as his exhausted muscles _pull_. “‘m okay, just give me a minute.”

_I don’t panic._

Jesse gave a short laugh. “Don’t think we’ve got a minute, but yeah, okay.”

Kix isn’t selfish, even if he wants to be, and he hoists himself up and rocks on his heels a few times, letting the fear and panic fuel the adrenaline that had previously ebbed.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jesse asked again, and this time his voice was softer, more concerned, and an overhead explosion had Kix ducking down enough that the effect was lost.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He thinks he hears Jesse snort, but by the time he cares enough to actually try to interpret the noise, Jesse’s gone.

And it’s not that he’s weak, not that he’s squeamish, but he cares so deeply, _too_ deeply for any of his _vod_ to admit defeat and take a break. So he doesn’t. 

The battle progresses, and it comes _increasingly obvious_ that they’re losing, but Rex still tells them to move, to keep going, and they obey, even if something within them _scream_ that this is wrong.

The Umbarans have tech they’ve never seen, and the wounded are piling up, until finally, Kix has had enough, all the anger and frustration finally boiling over. “Help me with the wounded!” He’s set up another station, this one much smaller and painfully inadequate, but it works.

Rex and Fives immediately obey, helping him drag a crushed trooper to the others. “We got to get these guys out of here.” He pants, cringing when he catches sight of one of the troopers he’d saved earlier, deathly still, their head lolling to the side unnaturally. 

He turns, intending to go get more before Rex grabs his arm. “Forget it. We have to leave them.”

 _Don’t,_ his mind whispers softly, _don’t leave them like you left the others. To_ die _._

“Are you insane?” He spits, voice full of venom. “We _can’t_ just leave them!”

“You don’t have a choice,” Rex grounds out, turning and stalking away. “That’s an order.”

Tears, sharp and unbidden arise, and he blinks them away rapidly, frustrated and _pissed off_ and burning with the need to _do_. “You sound like General Krell.” Kix seethes, clenching his fists hard to ground himself. 

Rex stays motionless for all of a few seconds, then he’s turning, posture stiff and tense, his voice hard but indescribably miserable. “Look, Kix, it’s more important to save yourself right now. If we survive, you can patch up the wounded later.”

Tup makes a small noise. “We- we’re finished.” He’s clutching his gun like a lifeline, and he’s only _nine_ , physically _eighteen_ , and Kix has to purposefully block out the innocence and fear in his voice. 

But he doesn’t reassure him. Kix has never been a good liar.

* * *

The airbase is finally theirs, and the longest battle that Rex can remember is finally over. 

He’s expecting a break, maybe a pat on the back for all the _osik_ he and his men had been put through, but no. Instead, the transmission from Kenobi seems to have further fueled Krell’s need for victory. 

“We’ll just have to take that capital regardless of the missiles.” Krell determines.

The holo of Kenobi flickers, and the surprise that Rex is feeling is mirrored on his face. 

“My battalion will meet you at the rendezvous coordinates.” 

_Your battalion?_

Rex was still reeling from the flippant way that Krell had just agreed to send them into battle. _Regardless of the missile_ , he’d said, meaning that they would just _push through_ . Like they had done the past days, the same tactic that had killed _so many._

The 501st was a shadow of what they once were.

“We can not expect-“ Kenobi’s voice garbled into something unintelligent before the holo started to fade away again, and with him, the only hope that they had to talk sense into Krell. 

“I’m trying to get him back, sir!” A trooper called, typing frantically at the Umbaran tech. Krell shook his head.

“Don’t bother. We’re on our own.”

“Should I… try to get a message out to General Kenobi, sir?” Rex offers, not liking the idea of going in _blind_ into territory that hadn’t even been scouted before.

“No. We need to throw everything we’ve got at them, _now_.”

Rex frowns. “We’ll be marching into a blast zone.”

As if to solidify the point, an explosion rocks the ground, a column of fire rising at the perimeter of the airbase. 

Krell’s tone doesn’t change in the slightest. “ _Prep the troops._ ”

* * *

“He’s not acting like the other Jedi.”

_He’s not Skywalker._

“He has _no_ respect for us.”

 _Skywalker did. He treated us like_ men _._

“Listen, I don’t agree with him either,” Rex interrupts before Fives continues, because he knows if he lets him, the guilt and fear chewing at his core will overwhelm him completely. “But I don’t have a better plan.”

_Liar._

But then Fives gives him the news. They have the codes and the ships of the Umbarans. They can get to the supply ship, destroy it, and cease all arms to the capital. 

Rex is still stupidly naive.

He takes the plan to Krell.

“Sir, with all due respect, might I suggest another option to help us secure the capital?”

Krell sighs, like a scolding parent to an errant child, and it makes Rex bristle instinctively. “And what would that be, Captain?”

“My men have cracked the Umbaran codes. with the star fighters, we could sneak past the supply ships defenses. We take it out, we cut off the arms to the capital.”

“And who do you propose would fly these star fighters?” Krell’s voice is cold, mocking. “Are your troops now pilots?”

“My men may not be pilots, sir, but they are able to learn and adapt quickly. A few of them have already demonstrated that.”

_It’s the way we were made, sir._

“I’m afraid I can’t afford to waste any clones on frivolous adventures. We’re going to need _everyone_ to take the capital.”

_Clones. Clones clones clones._

Not people. Not living beings. Clones.

_I can’t help I have a dead man’s face._

“Sir, incoming. Sector delta.” A trooper chirps, and Krell remains calm, walking to the viewing window and just _watches_ as the missiles strike, a brilliant ball of _green_ exploding through the calm evening. 

Rex has never been more afraid of a Jedi in his life.

* * *

 _“I am_ not _just another number! None of us are!”_

_“Fives, where are you going?”_

_“To round up some pilots.”_

He should’ve stopped him. He should have.

_“I can’t help you when you get caught.”_

He could’ve. _Could’ve would’ve should’ve._

“Prepare a squad for execution.”

 _No no no no_ no! “What? But-but sir-“

“You heard me, Captain. Do it immediately, or I’ll do it myself.” Krell says.

Rex has felt the Force many times. Most of them have been good experiences, a light, almost sentient _something_ that seemed to whisper at him, wrap itself around him in a comforting layer.

But this side, this _other_ side of the Force, was completely and utterly desolate. There was no whisper, it was a chaotic symphony, a ringing in his ears, a swirling of darkness that seemed to snuff out every light within him, and Rex took a startled step back against its onslaught. 

_I can’t do this._

The darkness seems to cackle at his predicament, it’s voice a screech within him. _You will, or you will_ **_die_** _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually so hard to write because i had to rely so heavily on the episodes, so i couldn’t really do my own thing. it felt weird lol, but next chapter will be even worse, with a snippet of the aftermath. sorry there wasn’t a lot of feels in this one, but there will be next time! y’all are the best, thank you for reading! 
> 
> (also the new clone wars episode? rex could run my over with his speeder and i would thank him)


	9. not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> but if you love me, why’d you leave me?

It’s surreal, in all honesty.

It’s dark, the soft glow from a few Umbaran lamps the only light to guide him. He feels nauseous, which was a recurring theme with him, but he tries not to think about it too much.

Fives and Jesse are lined up, and something within him rebels, because this is so _wrong_ and _unnatural_ and every instinct he has is screaming in turmoil. 

“Will the prisoners request to be blindfolded?”

Dogma is still and blank, professional, and Rex envies the calm he projects. 

Fives and Jesse’s chins tilt, defiant to the end, and it makes Rex crack the smallest of smiles before it’s gone. 

_Good for you, boys._

“I’ll take that as a no.” Dogma drawls. 

Fives’ eyes flash with something akin to fear, and a look of uncertainty passes over his features, one that makes Rex’s heart clench painfully and _fierfek_ , he can’t watch this.

“I hope you can live with yourself, Dogma.” Fives grits out. 

Dogma doesn’t answer, instead coming to stand by _Rex_ , and the uncertainty and conflict he feels rolling off him in waves is staggering. Or maybe it’s Rex’s own feelings. He doesn’t know what to believe anymore.

“Ready…”

The sounds of blasters clacking is maddeningly familiar, and Rex swallows hard.

“Aim…”

He closes his eyes. It’s better this way, he thinks. He’d rather not see their faces, see the fear, the hope, the unspoken _save me, sir_ , because he _can’t_ save them, he can barely save _himself._

* * *

Kix’s hands are shaking. 

He’s not used to that. He’s used to being the level-headed one, the one that gets shit done and doesn’t think another thing of it.

But this is Jesse.

Not a _prisoner_ , not a _traitor_ , Jesse.

Stupid, clumsy, kind-hearted _Jesse_ , the same person that offered him extra rations after a hard battle, the same person that woke him when he had nightmares, the same person that didn’t talk about them after, the same person that Kix had trusted and confided in.

“Aim…”

He fumbles for a moment, his sweaty hands slipping on the blaster, but he finally gets it raised, but he’s shaking so _kriffing hard_ that he _can’t_ aim, and the gun quivers dangerously in his hold.

Jesse knows. He _always_ knows, always has, and the _stupid di’kut_ smiles at him reassuringly, as if he’s _not_ tearing Kix’s heart out and ripping it to shreds. Their eyes lock, hold, and he realizes vaguely that _this is it._ He’ll be forced to kill him, to murder the only person that _understands him_ , and he blinks rapidly to dispel the moisture gathering in his eyes. 

_Why me? Why did they choose me to do it?_

His heart is racing despite being lodged in his throat. “I didn’t think I’d go out this way.” He hears Jesse murmur, and Kix wholeheartedly agrees.

_Me either, partner._

_I at least thought we’d do it together._

* * *

Rex is growing increasingly uncomfortable, because _no,_ it’s _not_ his emotions he’s feeling, because he’s not _regretful_ , at least not yet, and he’s not feeling _heartbreak_ and _agony_ that’s emanating so strongly from somebody else. It should scare him, being adept to the-

 _No. I’m not. Clones don’t_ get _the Force. That’s not how it works._

He shuts down the thought quickly, and instead focuses on his men. It still doesn’t stop him from figuring out _who_ it is that he’s feeling.

 _Kix,_ he thinks belatedly, because Jesse’s eyes are locked with something, some _body_ , and they’re so full of trust and _love_ and he feels like he’s _intruding_ , intruding on somebody else’s feelings, somebody else’s life, so Rex peels his gaze away and stares down at his boots before letting them fall closed.

“Wait!” Fives yells, but Rex doesn’t look up, doesn’t open his eyes, because he’s seen too many troopers beg, _plead_ to be spared only to be murdered anyway. “This is _wrong_. And we all know it. The General is making a mistake, and he needs to be called on it. No clone should have to go out this way!”

_It’s not going to work, old friend._

It’s the _General’s_ , the _Jedi’s_ order, not something to be talked out of, to be defied. 

“We are loyal soldiers. We follow orders, but we are _not_ a bunch of unthinking droids! We are _men_. We must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we’re given are wrong.”

Rex can hear Dogma’s teeth grinding from where he stands. “Fire!”

The shots miss. Jesse and Fives are _alive._

He’d thought that this was the end to the madness, to the recklessness that was Krell. 

He’s wrong.

_I’m always wrong._

* * *

_“Make sure the troops know, the enemy may disguise themselves as clones to try to trick us.”_

That’s what he’d said. And _fuck_ , he’d _believed_ him, _why_ did he keep believing him?

He’s- he’s trying to _think_ , because he’s _smarter_ than this, he knows better, he wouldn’t let something like this happen, _but it_ has _happened and now they’re all dead and he’s killed brothers,_ **_brothers_ ** _._

 _“It… it was General Krell.” Waxer gasped, a pained groan spilling past his lips as he winced, and Rex wants to do something, wants to help him, but all he can do is_ watch. _“He sent us to these coordinates to stop the enemy. We thought they were wearing our armor.” He coughs, a wet, broken sound, and it makes_ Rex _hurt, because_ he did this. _This is_ all _his fault. “But… it was…” Waxer gasps again, and he sounds so confused, so afraid and agonized, and a tear slides down his cheek, almost unnoticeable in the dark. “you.”_

Rex blinks and the memory is gone, but the glow of Krell’s lightsabers as they pierced through plastoid armor was a permanent image. It was always there, when he closed his eyes- _a flash of green, a scream, a trooper cut in two, the sadistic gleam in Krell’s eyes-_ but he’s- he’s coping, he’s fine.

Krell is dead.

 _“He was right. I_ was _using you.”_

He shivered, remembering all too well how… _violent_ Krell had become. He’d _snapped_ a trooper’s _back_ with his bare hands and- 

Rex leans over the railing and vomits, his body heaving with the aftershocks, and he’s left feeling exhausted and weak.

_“You’ve all been my pawns.”_

He wants- he wants _Skywalker_ , he wants _his_ Jedi back, and he doesn’t care if the man will betray him tomorrow if he can just see him today, because he hadn’t realized how attached he’d become until now. 

_I miss him. A lot._

_“You’re shaking, aren’t you?”_ Krell’s voice taunts, and Rex swallows hard, pacing away from the ledge and looking up at the blackened sky above him. 

He can just make out the silhouette of the gunships, moving far too slow for his liking, and he immediately makes his descent down, trying very, _very_ hard to pretend that this is normal, that the hangar down below isn’t littered with bodies. 

The gunships don’t even know where to _land._ The hangar and further out into the airbase is a sea of bodies and armor, so _many_ and so few medics, and most of them are just _wounded_ but they’re dying anyway, just… laying there to rot, alone and _hurt_ and-

_Yeah, no. I can’t do this._

Rex inhales sharply, turns, and stumbles his way into a ‘fresher. The more he thinks about it, the more his heart races and his throat tightens, and he’s _trying_ to calm down, because he needs to debrief, needs to meet the reinforcements and let them know about this little… _predicament_ , but it’s- he’s _scared_ and he doesn’t know why, and black spots are dancing in front of his eyes and-

_Kriff._

* * *

There’s a part of him that wants to be alone, a dark, rebellious part of him that shuns the affection and tenderness that his body desperately craves. 

So Rex doesn’t linger in the hangar of the _Resolute_ , instead slipping away amidst the chaos of unloading the wounded from the gunships. He keeps his helmet on and his eyes down, because he knows that if he so much as catches _sight_ of Skywalker, the facade that he’s worked so hard for will crumble around him. 

It’s easy, getting to his quarters. 

It’s _hard_ to get his armor off with his hands shaking so much. Once done, he feels drained, exhausted, and his blacks are sticky with sweat, clinging to him like a second skin.

His eyes flicker up to the door of the small ‘fresher.

A shower would be nice, he thinks, because wasn’t that the smart thing to do? Wash off all the dirt, all the blood, all the _evidence_ , get _rid of it all_ and be whole again?

_Yep. Sounds like a plan._

Rex stubbornly pushes his emotions down, forcing himself to feel _nothing_ as he peels off his blacks and steps into the scalding water of the shower. And then he scrubs. 

He scrubs _hard_ because he needs to feel clean again, needs to feel normal. His bronze skin is a bright pink by the time he’s done, and even then he _still_ doesn’t feel clean.

 _Just a little longer,_ he tells himself, and he picks up the ratty rag again before pressing it hard into his skin, rubbing _up and down, up and down,_ so much so that pain flares up from the already raw skin.

It’s enough to send a jolt of awareness through him, and he drops the rag almost immediately, bile rising in his throat. It’s- it’s hard to _think,_ and he feels weird, _really_ weird, and he stumbles from the ‘fresher without turning the water off, shakily pulling his blacks on, grimacing as the cool material soaks up the water from his skin. 

He needs to do something, he knows he does, because he can feel it, this adrenaline surging through him, this anxious feeling that _something bad will happen_ and he needs to-

_Calm down. I’m fine, just breathe, in and out…_

Rex swore, his gauntlet slipping through his fingers and falling to the floor from where he’d been strapping it on, and his vision wavers as he glares down at it.

“Shit,” he breathes, because he _can’t see straight_ and his heart is pounding so hard it hurts, and he _doesn’t know what’s wrong_ , but panic, sharp and unbidden is rising within him, and he _knows_ he’s safe, knows that he’s fine, he’s alive, he’s breathing, but apparently his body missed the memo.

_We’re fine._

His hands are shaking so hard that they refuse to obey his commands.

_I’m fine._

His vision refuses to focus.

_This is normal._

His knees threaten to buckle beneath him, and a small noise escapes through gritted teeth.

_Just after-battle jitters._

He’s sweating, but he’s cold. How does that happen?

_Think, calm down._

But he _can’t_ think, and finally, his knees make good on their promise, and he drops down hard, his back hitting the side of his bunk with a painful _thunk._ It knocks the little breath he’d had in him _out_ of him, and he gapes for a moment, his throat working around nothing, and _he’s dying he can’t breathe someone please hecantbreatheplease-_

“Rex? Are you in here?”

His breath comes back to him on a shuddering inhale, and his mind screeches to a panicked halt.

_Kriff._

He can’t let General Skywalker see him, he’ll be _reconditioned_ , sent back to Kamino, _a weak Captain is a useless Captain,_ and Rex scrambles to his feet, ignoring the pins and needles that shoot through them at the motion. “I-I’m not decent, sir.”

It’s a weak excuse, and he knows that the Jedi doesn’t believe it when there’s silence on the other side of the door. “Well can you… get decent? I wanted to talk to you.”

Yeah, _shit,_ no, he can’t do that. Rex glanced around the room, looking for anything, any excuse, but all he sees is the pristine cabin he’d left behind, save for the scattered pieces of armor that he’d been too out of it to notice until now. 

Armor. He needs armor, something to protect him, even if it _is_ just Skywalker.

_My Jedi._

He’s pieced on the bottom half of his armor and is working on the top half when the door opens with a _whoosh_. 

“Sorry,” Skywalker’s tone was light, oblivious, and he stepped in with a small laugh. “Figured you’d be _decent_ by now.”

Rex just stares at him, frozen from where he’s holding his chest plate, trying to not notice the lightsaber clipped to the Jedi’s belt, because _when had he started to notice that? and when did he start to be wary of his General’s morals?_

_He would never hurt me._

The thought is lost amidst the basest part of him that’s been _betrayed_ and _hurt_ and his hand moves of its own accord, settling on his pistol and staying there, a necessary precaution for a necessary evil.

_What am I doing?_

Skywalker looks equally surprised, his eyes wide, traveling from the pistol to Rex and back again. “Are you… are you okay?”

_No._

_Yes._

_I don’t know._

“Yes, sir.” He chokes out, forcing his hand away from the gun and back to the chest plate, ignoring the cramp in his hand from how tense he is. “J-just a little jumpy, is all.”

Those impossibly blue eyes are locked with his, and the _kindness_ and _worry_ and _compassion_ makes Rex tear his gaze away and take a deep breath. The feeling of panic is slowly creeping away, leaving him drained and he has to try very hard to make his shoulders stay straight. 

Skywalker is silent, and Rex can hear his hands clenching and unclenching, and his eyes follow the motion out of habit, watching in fascination as the Jedi stops almost immediately.

 _He knows,_ his mind whispers. _He can feel your emotions, your fear. He feels_ **_you._**

“I wanted to apologize.” Skywalker says quickly, and Rex thinks that he looks a far cry from the hardened, battle hungry General Rex has become used to serving. “I wasn’t there for you, for you or any of the men, and that’s my _job_.” His Jedi paused, his eyes darting around before settling on him again. “It should have been me.” He finished, his voice whisper soft, and Rex studied him carefully, the wariness almost dissipating completely, because _Skywalker_ was being vulnerable, so that meant Rex could be vulnerable too, right? 

“You don’t have to apologize, sir.” His throat feels tight, worn and scratchy, but he ignores it. “It’s what we were meant to do. And- and I understand, you’re important to the war effort, and the- the Chancellor needed you.”

The lie falls from his tongue clumsily, because Rex _doesn’t_ understand, doesn't understand how they could have been _left_ and _abandoned_ by the very same Jedi that had promised to be there to lead them. 

**_I_ ** _needed you._

Skywalker is staring at him, his expression unreadable, and then he’s walking over, dropping down to sit beside him, warmth oozing from him in waves and seeping into Rex’s damp blacks. It shouldn’t have been as satisfying as it was, and he scolds himself even as Rex felt himself lean a little toward the Jedi.

“It’s not okay, and I'm sorry all the same.” His Jedi says, so heartfelt and _genuine_ and the simple confession has his carefully guarded emotions bubbling over.

“I trusted him, you know.” Rex blurts without thinking, and his heart jumps, picking up an uneven pace that leaves him slightly breathless at the truth of the statement. “I thought that- that he was _good_ , and he acted fine.” His mind is reeling, because Rex _doesn’t understand and he_ wants _to because it hurts and aches._ But he can’t. Krell had acted _fine_ , had acted so _normal and Jedi-like_ with Skywalker there that Rex had been lulled into a false sense of security. A mistake. “And then you left.” He bit out, and his hands are trembling ever so slightly, so he tucks them at his sides. "I didn't- I thought-" The words are stuck in his throat, and he tries to swallow around them, tries to ease the pressure there, but it's useless, and Rex closes his mouth, bites his bottom lip _hard_ to stop the trembling there. 

Skywalker is closer now, so close that their shoulders brush, and his hand has somehow ended up at Rex's side, his thumb making gentle sweeps that make the skin there twitch at the touch. "I thought that if I just did what he said, then maybe he wouldn't-" A choked noise comes from his throat, a hurt, painful sound.

 _I thought that maybe he wouldn't hurt them. Wouldn't hurt_ me.

"I- I can't do this," Rex breathes, the panic and adrenaline that had lessened slamming back into him with such force that it leaves him gaping and _raw_ , flayed open for anyone to see and it's _wrong_. Skywalker is _too close, too soon,_ and his blacks are burning against his skin and it _itches_ and he needs them _off off off._ He lurches to his feet, ignoring the protest from Skywalker and stumbles towards the 'fresher, reaching blindly for the toilet in the small, steam filled room. The water is still falling, the ongoing noise that _doesn't stop, doesn't end_ making him all the more nauseous, and he reaches his destination just in time to vomit. His body _heaves_ and _heaves_ until it has nothing left to give, and he holds himself there for a moment, panting and staring at the mess below him before he sags, breathless and _exhausted_ against the damp tile of the wall.

And then there's a dark shape coming towards him, saying something, the steam swirling around them and it looks _so much Krell,_ so much like _Umbara_ and he tries to back himself up further, his feet sliding uselessly on the wet floor. The figure kneels and- it _is_ Krell, his yellow eyes dark, burning, and Rex kicks out, catching him in the chest and sending the Jedi falling back. He doesn't take the time to celebrate his victory, shakily getting to his feet and bolting, slipping slightly as he runs out of the 'fresher. He pauses once he's out and the steam isn't hindering his view, glancing around the room-

"Rex!"

Rex turned, backing up carefully, jumping when the back of his knees hit the edge of the bunk. The figure stepped out of the mist, so _dark_ and _intimidating_ and _bad bad bad_ -

"St-stay away from me," He croaked, his breath whistling through him audibly on a desperate inhale. He needed- he needed to find his men, they were here somewhere, right? They could help, could figure out what's wrong with him, why _Krell_ was here, when Rex had watched his cold, lifeless body fall.

"Rex-"

Krell rarely said his name, and when it _was_ spoken, it was a mockery. Almost as if it was _cute_ that they'd named themselves.

"Stop!" Rex practically screeched, bringing both hands up to his head, holding it _tight_ because this _didn't make sense._ "Stop calling me that! J-Just stop, _please_."

* * *

Rex's eyes had always caught his attention.

Not only because of their color- _a breathtaking gold that seemed_ blinding _in the dark_ \- but because of how expressive they were. He didn't even have to sense his emotions, didn't have to pry into his mind, he simply had to _look_ , and it was all there. He wondered if the Captain had any idea just how open and easy to read he was.

But now, those eyes were distant, glazed, and when Rex looked at him, it was as if he was looking right through him. 

It had happened so _fast_. One minute he was fine, the next he was _panicked_ and running and Anakin was having a hard time keeping up.

And then Rex kicked him.

Anakin groaned, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to shake off the pain in his chest, because _kriff, he could kick hard_ , before he rolled to his knees and stood, staggering out after Rex. 

"Rex!"

His Captain whirled, his pupils blown, his panicked gaze sliding past him and to the door and back again. "St-stay away from me." Rex choked out, and Anakin felt a stab of hurt.

_Does he not trust me?_

"Rex-"

"Stop!" Anakin immediately shut his mouth, his eyes wide at the yell. Rex was full on hyperventilating now, his hands coming up to grip his head, and the pang of _scaredhurtconfusion_ that assaulted him in the force was nauseating. "Stop calling me that! J-just stop, _please._ "

It was the _"please"_ that made him pause. It had sounded so defeated, so exhausted and broken, and Anakin was reaching into Rex's mind almost involuntarily. He recoiled quickly when the image of _burning yellow eyes_ and a cruel, cynical smile flashed before his eyes.

_He doesn't know it's me._

That… changed things. Rex was still panting hard, tugging at his blacks and letting out a frustrated noise when the slick material didn't budge. 

"Hey, hey," Anakin started softly, not missing the way Rex froze, his gaze still down, a few errant muscles in his legs rippling with the anticipation of running. Which wouldn't be good, Anakin thought sourly, because he really wasn't in the mood to chase Rex down. "It's okay, you're okay, it's me, Anakin. I've got you."

Rex's eyes were glued to the floor, unblinking, his chest shuddering slightly as his breath caught. "G-General?"

Anakin gave a small smile, taking a slow, steady step forward, stopping when Rex tensed further. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here."

For a moment he thought Rex would believe him, but then his face fell, and his eyes were watery and _sad_ and _no no no what did I do wrong?_ "No," Rex murmured, his brows furrowing slightly as if just remembering. "You _left_."

Guilt gnawed at him. "Yes, I did. But I'm here now, and I-"

"I needed you," Rex whispered, his voice raw and painful, his eyes still downcast, almost as if he didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know the truth. "I needed you _then,_ I don't- I don't need you _now_."

That stung, just a little. "I know, I'm sorry."

There was silence after that, Rex's breathing slowing until it could be considered normal, although he still held himself stiff as a board. 

Anakin _wanted_ to comfort him, wanted to make it _better_ because this was _his fault._ "Rex," He implored softly. His Captain's eyes slid shut for a moment, and when they opened again, they were clear.

Clear and horrified.

Rex reacted like a spooked animal, practically shoving himself away from his bunk, moving on shaky legs to clutch the edge of the desk in the corner instead. " _Kriff_ ," He murmured, and his eyes still wouldn't meet Anakin's. "Sorry, sir. I don't know what came over me." 

"It's okay," Anakin said slowly. "You're okay." Then, when Rex still hesitated, "He's gone."

Rex's eyes slid closed. "I- I know that, sir."

Anakin couldn’t take it any longer.

"Look at me, Rex."

His Captain swallowed hard, and Anakin thought that he would be disobeyed, but after a few agonizing seconds, those golden eyes were up and looking straight at him, full of uncertainty and _shame_ and it made his heart twist painfully. "Hey," he teased, eliciting a weak smile from the other.

"Hi, sir."

"Anakin, please." Anakin wrinkled his nose. "Sir is only for the battlefield."

"Yes, sir."

"You did that on purpose."

"I would never, General." 

Their smiles fell soon after, and Rex took a deep breath before walking over to a piece of armor, grabbing it and strapping it on. He repeated the process with another scattered piece, until finally, there were none left and his hands were forced idle.

There was another prolonged period of silence.

“Do you want me to go?” Anakin finally asked, because he didn’t want to pry, didn’t want to be overbearing.

“No.” Rex said, a little too quickly, and Anakin nodded, fighting down the Force that practically _sang_ within him.

“Okay.”

* * *

“He’s gone, he’s- _I did that, I sent him_ , it should have b-been _me,_ and-“

Obi-Wan held him tighter, and Cody gasped against his neck, fisting his hands into the Jedi’s tunic and biting his lip hard to stifle the sob that threatened to break through. “Shhh, it’s okay, Cody-“

“It’s _not._ ” He grit out, trying to catch his breath but _Waxer was gone, and what would he say to Boil? How would he explain this?_

“It’s not your fault.” Obi-Wan soothed, running his finger tips up and down Cody’s spine, pleased when Cody unknowingly arched into the touch.

( _Obi-Wan wants to be elated, because he’s finally, finally holding Cody, and maybe he would be in different circumstances, but as it is, his Commander needs him. And Obi-Wan will never let him drown alone.)_

“I should have went, I was _supposed to go_ -“

“Focusing on the past does not change the future, dear one.” He murmured into Cody’s hair, frowning when Cody hiccuped. “You did what you were ordered to do. You are not to blame, Cody, please don’t force that on yourself. If anything, _I_ should have objected to General Krell’s order.”

“ _I’m_ the Commander.” Cody’s voice was wet, and he sounded _exhausted_ , and he didn’t protest when Obi-Wan carefully settled back so Cody was sprawled over him, his face tucked into his neck and their legs tangled together. “I’m supposed to lead them, not- not Waxer, that wasn’t his job, and now he’s _\- fierfek,_ Boil won’t- Boil _needs_ him, how will I-“

“Cody,” Obi-Wan interrupted firmly, running his free hand through Cody’s hair absently, humming when his Commander relaxed against him. “I am the General, and I will deal with any of the repercussions from this mission, not you. You did nothing wrong, you followed orders, _my orders,_ explicitly. Do you understand?”

Cody nods, but his chest still shudders on an inhale, and Obi-Wan closes his eyes and just… holds him, trying to deny the feeling that’s expanding within him.

_I will never let anyone hurt you again, dear one._

* * *

" _Why_ were you not on Umbara? You had a _perfect_ opportunity, no one would have been the wiser."

"I'm not one of your lackeys, Count." The assassin snarled. “I don’t take off running whenever you say fetch.”

Dooku gave a thin smile.

"Of course not. But you _are_ getting paid. And quite handsomely at that. Perhaps I should find someone else if you don't feel capable-"

"I never said that."

Dooku narrowed his eyes. He was tempted to throw the Mandalorian out of the nearest air lock, but instead forced out, "Then why isn't it _done_?"

"You do realize that you're asking me to take out an extremely high profile target. They're practically glued to each other's sides, I can't do _anything_ with that _Jetii_ around."

Dooku stood, stalking around the table to tower over the hunter. The assassin didn't seem intimidated in the slightest. "I want that clone _dead,_ is that understood?"

The Mandalorian shifted from one foot to the other before cocking out a hip, the expressionless visor giving nothing away. "Why?"

"That's a little above your pay grade," Dooku sneered.

"Why don't I just kill the _Jetii-_ "

"No!" Dooku snapped, satisfied when he got a barely perceptible twitch from the armored man. _Maybe there's a human under there after all_ , he thought wryly. "Kenobi is mine, kill him and I’ll peel the very flesh from your bones."

The assassin was silent for a moment, his grip on his rifle tightening. His voice was hard when he spoke. "Tell your little witch to stand down."

Surprised, Dooku laughed, motioning Ventress- who had been lurking in the shadows- away with a flick of the wrist. "I like you," Dooku said. "But let me be clear. You have _one more chance_ to dispose of CC-2224, and if you fail," His voice dropped to a whisper and he leaned in close, enjoying the way the assassin tensed. "I'll destroy your entire clan and everything it holds dear. I'll taint its name until it's the most vile curse that can be spat in the galaxy, and only then will I kill _you_ , after you've _suffered_."

When he leaned away, the assassin stepped back, his helmet tipped in curiosity. “You mistake me, _dar’jetii._ ” His voice dropped. “I have no clan.”

"Everyone belongs to something,” Dooku shrugged, but didn’t stray from the topic. Mandalorian’s were curious people, they would fight amongst each other, but would _also_ give their life protecting those very same people from outsiders. Compassion, Dooku mused, was a weakness easily exploited. “Clan Vizsla has been a thorn in my side far longer than you think. Don't tempt me to pull it out."

"You're hardly the first Force user my kind has dealt with. And you won't be the last."

"Is that a threat?" Dooku cooed, smirking as the Mandalorian stalked to the door, pausing just before exiting. His voice was a sneer, a challenge, and Dooku was tempted to kill the man and find someone else at the echoing reply.

"A promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> super short chapter, sorry about that. i don’t know why this one was so hard to write, because i was actually super excited about it and had a BUNCH of ideas for it, but it ended up being a scrap lol, so apologies! 
> 
> also, i’m going to jump around a little out of order on the episodes (most of this is my dialogue and plot anyway but i’m going to integrate some of the episodes actions and character deaths) so don’t think that i’m uneducated lmao. 
> 
> if you didn’t already know, Dooku basically wants Obi-Wan to turn to the dark side and become his apprentice (it’s what he aims for in attack of the clones as well), just a little fyi for anyone confused :)
> 
> Also just realized that Jesse is probably going to die by the end of the new season of clone wars and honestly i don’t know how i’ll cope because i love them all so much, so suffer with me :(
> 
> anyways, thank you for reading lovelies, you make my day! next chapter will be up soon!


	10. even

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no one:
> 
> me, breathless: kix

The first thing he noticed was that he was laying on something extremely _comfortable_. 

Rex slowly, leisurely stretched, refusing to open his eyes and disrupt the small bout of peace he’d finally acquired. Yawning, he snuggled down further, frowning slightly when he felt something shift underneath him, and he made a small noise.

“Sorry.” And- _oh,_ that was Skywalker, his voice gravelly and deep with sleep, but amusement coloring his tone. Rex was too tired to be embarrassed, instead hiding his face further, his nose brushing against skin, and when he cracked open an eye, he was met with the sight of Skywalker’s neck.

_Oh._

_Oh, shit._

Rex stiffened, moving to pull away, but his Jedi had a hand wrapped around his torso, and when he tried to draw away, he was pinned in place. “Easy, Rex. We’re fine. We still have at least-“ Skywalker paused, as if counting. “Three hours before anyone needs us. You can rest. You deserve it.”

That- made him feel warm, when it was said like that.

_You deserve it._

And, after finally relaxing again, his face tucked against his Jedi’s neck, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, he lets himself believe it. 

Because Rex is still just a little naive.

* * *

_“Go! There’s no time!”_

_“Are you insane? We can’t leave them!”_

_“You don’t have a choice, now_ **_go_** _! That’s an order, Kix!”_

 _His heart is pounding, nausea roiling in his gut, and he_ **_can’t leave them_** _. They’re_ **_babies_** _, most of them shinies: Thrust into a war they’d never agreed to be a part of, and it makes him sick. His breaths are nothing but whistles, his throat tightening to the point of pain, and_ **_fuck, he can’t leave them._ **

_He wants to argue, oh, does he_ **_want to,_** _but that’s his commanding officer, and to defy his orders would mean death._

_It doesn’t make leaving them any easier._

_No, if anything, it makes the knowledge of what he’s doing all the harder. He’s leaving them behind, hurt and scared, to save his own skin. So_ **_he_ ** _won’t get decommissioned. He’s never hated himself more._

 _At what point does he become useless? At what point is there no need for a medic on the battlefield? After all, they were leaving the wounded- the reason for his_ **_job_** _, his sole purpose- behind to die, broken and used._ **_Discarded._ **

_Kix let’s out a frustrated scream through gritted teeth, torn between living and dying, his feet planted firmly on the ground, listening to the screams and pleas and_ **_he can’t do that, he can’t kill them_ ** _-_

 _Jesse is in front of him, then, shaking him, grabbing his arms and pulling, and Kix digs his heels in, fights back, struggling and pushing because_ **_no_** _, he needs to do his_ **_fucking_ ** _job, why won’t they let him do that?_

_“Kix, hey, c’mon, stop- it’s not-“_

_With a final shove, Jesse’s grip is broken, and Kix takes all of three steps before he’s tackled to the ground. And oh, that_ **_pisses him off_** _. He bucks and writhes and screams and_ **_screams_ ** _to let him go, because they_ **_need him_ ** _and he can_ **_still hear them screaming_ , **_their hoarse cries of “medic! medic!” reaching his ears over the roar of blaster fire and-_

 _“Kix!” Jesse's voice is strained, high, almost like he’s scared, and for a moment it shocks Kix into complacency, and he falls still, breathing hard, his sides heaving with the effort of drawing in breath after painful breath. “_ **_Stop_ ** _, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not your fault-“_

**_It’s my fault._ **

_He should have gotten to them sooner, maybe tried harder, and then he wouldn’t have had to_ **_leave them there to die slowly, painfully, to rot-_ **

_“Let me go, please, please,_ **_please_** _,” His voice breaks, and he let a small sob of frustration, banging an armored fist into the ground and bucking again. “Let me help them, p-please, Jesse, they need me, they_ **_need me_** _-“_

 _“Kix.” Jesse hauls him to his feet at Rex’s shouted retreat, holding him firmly, and Kix wants to fucking_ **_kill someone_ ** _because a trembling hand lifts on the battlefield, trying to wave for help, and he can’t- cant_ **_breathe_** _, can’t think except for the all consuming urge to help, to save them. “It’s okay.”_

**_It’s not._ **

_They leave._

_A final scream of “medic!” rings in his ears._

_He still can’t breathe._

_When they’re finally at a secure location, with reinforcements and a small camp, Kix finally shrugs out of Jesse’s hold, stalking over to a secluded jumble of plant life to drown alone._

_He’s disgusted. With himself, with the ruthless Jedi that had decided to order them into a suicide run, with Rex, for not standing up for his men, with the war, for swallowing_ **_vod_ ** _after_ **_vod_ ** _with no remorse._

_He doesn’t know how long he sits there, helmet still on, ‘pack still strapped to his back, eyes dry and hands shaking, before Jesse carefully, slowly lowers himself to sit beside him._

_Kix thinks that maybe he’ll get a lecture. That’s what usually happens. The same load of shit that he always hears from people who_ **_don’t understand_** _, “you did what you could, there’s nothing you could have done”._

 _Instead Jesse pops the seal on his helmet, takes it off and sets it to the side, before reaching over and taking Kix’s helmet off too, setting it next to his own. He doesn’t say anything, and they sit in a comfortable silence, both staring at their helmets, lined up side by side, so uniquely different, and it only reminds Kix of the poor shinies that hadn’t even had a chance to_ **_paint their armor_** _, and he averts his gaze with a harsh swallow._

_His heart refuses to slow it’s harsh pace, and, as a medic, he knows that means somethings wrong, but he’s too tired and haunted to check himself over._

_His hands have blood on them._

_He notices it almost distantly, and he_ **_laughs,_ ** _because_ **_fuck_** _, this is so messed up-_

“Kix, hey hey hey, you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re home.”

Home.

Kix blinks, realizes he’s sitting up in his bunk, covered in sweat and panting, and at least half of the other _vod_ are up too, watching with silent, pitying eyes. Kix doesn’t meet their gazes, instead looks down at his hands, twists them together before tucking them beneath his thighs.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” He asks, grabbing his thin pillow and fluffing it, smoothing out his blanket, anything to avoid the look he knows Jesse will give him. 

“No,” Jesse lies. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Most of the _vod_ are settling back down, pulling up their blankets and going to sleep. Kix pulls in a shaky breath, ignores the question. “Did I scream?”

Jesse hesitates, and Kix knows the answer. “Hey, no- Don’t, it’s okay, it’s fine, everyone has them, _hell,_ even I have them-“

Kix holds up a hand. “Wasn’t- wasn’t a nightmare, Jesse.” He mumbled, feeling the other trooper stiffen. Memories are… _delicate._ Like the mind, in a way. They don’t go away, they stay, and reside, and make their presence known whether you want them to or not, and part of him knows that there’s something wrong with him, but he’s too stubborn to admit it. “It’s fine, I’m okay. Just- Just go back to sleep.” Then, when Jesse hesitates again, “Please.”

Jesse relents. He goes back to his bunk, and soon after, his breathing turns deep and even.

Kix refuses to close his eyes, because he knows that if he does, the past weeks are going to play before his eyes like a _kriffing_ holofilm.

He can’t relive it again.

* * *

The next morning, Kix avoided everyone’s eyes. It’s embarrassing, _shameful,_ because he’s the medic, the one that was supposed to be comforting others, not having them comfort him. 

Jesse tells him it’s fine, tells him that it happens to all of them, but he hadn’t seen _Tup_ waking up the others screaming, and Tup is the karking _youngest_. So he waves off the concern the others show, the soft looks and the gentle touches, because he’s _fine_. He doesn’t need to talk about it, and it would be _better_ if everyone just left him alone.

So he retreats to the one place that he can really relax in. The infirmary. It’s preposterous, really, the idea that work helps him calm down, helps him relax, but he doesn’t care, and he carefully avoids Helix’s detection as he slips in, placing his ‘pack on a counter and starting to pick through it.

_Bandages._

He grabs a few rolls off a shelf, feeling a little guilty when he sees how few are left before stuffing them into the bag.

_Sedatives._

He swipes multiple, reading the label carefully to be sure the dosage is correct.

_Pain killers._

There are multiple bottles and syringes lined up carefully, and he studies them a moment, frowning when he sees one that he doesn’t recognize. “Helix!”

A sharp _clang_ followed by a curse came from the room adjoining, and Kix winced. A very grumpy looking and disheveled Helix emerged, wiping bloody hands on a rag. “ _What_?”

“Did we receive a new shipment while I was gone? I’ve never seen this before.” Kix picked up the strange syringe, holding it up. 

Helix stared at him for a moment, as if just seeing him, his face blank. “What’re you doing here, kid?”

Kix ignored the jab at his age. “Working. You need all the medics you can get, plus I had to restock.” Kix explained, ignoring the glare Helix directed at him, grabbing the painkillers he was most familiar with before putting them in his ‘pack. 

“You should be _resting._ You’ve still got another day before your next assignment.” Helix argued, shaking his head before rummaging around in a drawer, grabbing a case of bacta and tossing it to him. 

Kix caught the case easily, shoving it into the bag before closing the flap, some of the adrenaline fading in his veins. “It’s fine. Jesse said something about sparring with the boys, so I don’t really have anything else to do.” He shrugged. “So here I am. Now what can I do?”

Helix grumbled but jerked his head towards the room he’d exited. “Amputee.” Kix grimaced. “You feeling up to it?”

Feeling nauseous at the mere mention of performing a surgery, he nodded anyway, brushing past the other medic to get to work. 

* * *

Fighting his way into the Republic ship and landing was easy, especially for someone of his trade, and it was almost comical how little resistance he met.

Trying to persuade the trooper in front of him that he meant no harm was another thing entirely. He frowned, shifting his weight, his tattered cape swaying gently from a draft of air, and he tried to remain as unthreatening as possible, but the trooper _still_ denied him access. “This is a military operation-“

“And I’m here to see your _Jetii_.” Ryker spat, not intimidated in the slightest when the clone tightened their grip on their blaster. “Call it a… _military_ issue.”

The clone, despite having its helmet on, gave him a blank look. “Sir, I have to request you leave, or we will resort to physical force.” 

The telltale cocking of weapons was picked up dutifully by his helmet’s transmitter, and Ryker tensed, glancing around the hangar, searching for the karking Jedi that he’d come for. “This is a mistake. I’m a friend.”

“You’re a stranger.” The trooper stated bluntly. “And a Mandalorian.”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m a kriffing _twi’lek_ from the lower levels of Coruscant,” Ryker snarled, his patience, along with his good mood, dropping. “I have information for your _Jetii_. You want it, or not?”

The trooper hesitated, then slowly, spoke. “General, we have a visitor.” A pause. “No, sir. Mandalorian. He says he has intel and will only talk to you.” A more prolonged silence, and Ryker huffed, cocking a hip and crossing his arms. Finally, “Right away, sir.”

“Well?”

The trooper grabbed his arm, mindful of the beskar on it, and tugged him forward. “General Skywalker has agreed to meet with you and hear what you have to say. Any sign of hostility will not be tolerated.” The trooper glanced back at him. “We have a pretty spacious brig that I think you’d find refreshing.”

* * *

Rex tensed when he caught sight of the Mandalorian, immediately recognizing the crimson armor and ominous markings. “You tried to kill me.” He found himself blurting, and the assassin cocked his head.

“I never _try_ to do anything. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

Skywalker looked between the two, taking a step further into the interrogation cell they currently occupied. “This is him? The agent you told me about earlier?”

Rex nodded, eyeing the Mandalorian cautiously when he didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest.

_Should’ve cuffed him._

It was too late now, though. A wrong move too close and he’d have a vibroblade between his ribs, _that_ he was certain of.

His Jedi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re an agent of Dooku.”

The man hummed. “Not sure I qualify for that position. I just take jobs.” He shrugged, his limbs loose and relaxed. “ _Difficult_ jobs that no one else will.” Rex could almost swear the Mandalorian was smiling. “I’m special like that.”

Skywalker was quiet beside him, contemplative, before he crossed his arms. “Alright mister…”

The Mandalorian tensed for the first time, hesitating before replying. “Ryker.”

Skywalker grinned, but it held no amusement or warmth. “Alright, _Ryker_ , so why are you suddenly willing to help us, _hmm_? I’m sure Dooku was paying you well. Why would you risk gaining a bounty on your head?”

“And why didn’t you kill me?” Rex chimed in, ignoring the disapproving look Skywalker threw at him. Rex had just as much right to question him as his Jedi did. Besides, _Skywalker_ hadn’t felt the cool tip of his blade at his throat. 

The Mandalorian leaned against the wall, looping his hands in his belt, his form radiating amusement. “My, I _am_ popular.” Then, suddenly serious, “I didn’t kill you because you’re not my target. I was specifically instructed to kill only a set number for each week I was hunting.”

“You killed Republic troops.” Skywalker said bluntly. “That’s enough to have you locked away on its own. But the fact that you’re tied in with Dooku? You could be executed.”

“Dooku is a sadist.” The Mandalorian spat, the calm, carefree facade slipping for the briefest moment. 

“And you’re not?” Skywalker snorted, and Rex glanced over at him in rebuke.

“I do what I do to _survive_.” Ryker snarled, his transmitter making the sound animalistic, raspy. “Why do _you_ kill, _jetii_?” Skywalker stiffened beside him, and Rex took over quickly before it could escalate. 

“This is about you, Ryker.” The use of his name seemed to snap the Mandalorian from his rage, and his helmet turned to face Rex. “Not him.”

Ryker settles against the wall again, sated for the time being. “Dooku may pay handsomely, but he’s a _di’kut._ He threatened my clan, so I’ve come to you, offering the information I know as a… _gift,_ of sorts. In exchange for your word that if it comes to it, you will aid my clan and any of Mandalore in fighting Dooku’s agents.”

There was silence for a moment. “Alright, what’s the information?” Skywalker said slowly. 

“The Count wants Kenobi-“

“ _What_?” Skywalker exploded, but the Mandalorian growled a warning, and he fell silent.

“As I was saying,” Ryker’s tone was annoyed. “The Count wants Kenobi to fall, to become a _dar’jetii_ and take his place as his apprentice. To do it, he’s having me target a very high ranking clone commander-“

“Wait, Cody?” Rex asked, disbelief setting in. There was _no way_ anybody outside of the GAR could know about Obi-Wan and Cody. Hell, even Cody and _Obi-Wan_ didn't know about themselves. 

Ryker shrugged again. “A Marshall Commander. I was to terminate him by the end of the campaign, but I could never get a clear shot. After that, the Count started telling me to take out any wandering troopers I saw nearby as well, as a way to get inside your heads.”

Skywalker’s fists were clenched. “You son of a-“

“Listen, I didn’t like it either.” Ryker snapped. “It was hard enough killing the first couple of _v-_ of troopers, you think I liked it?”

Rex stilled. Suddenly, he said, “Take off your helmet.”

Ryker froze. “No. The Creed forbids it.”

“We both know you’ve never sworn the Creed.” Rex added gently, because he had a _suspicion_ that he knew who- or at least what face- would be beneath the helmet. “And Mandalorians don’t take too well to outsiders up and joining.” He cocked his head, his heart racing with the possibility that he was wrong but still willing to risk it anyway. “So what's it going to be, _vod_?”

A small inhale from Ryker was the only sound. Then, carefully, gloved hands reached up to grip the edges of the beskar before pulling it away. A clone, a _young clone_ , stared back at him, but what really surprised him was the eyes. They were _blue_ , almost as blue as Skywalker’s, and while, _yes_ , he’d heard of blue eyed clones before, they were still incredibly _rare._

Skywalker was still silent beside him, but he heard him let out a soft curse. 

“What’s your designation, kid?” He heard himself ask softly. 

_He looks exactly like Cody._

Ryker’s eyes flashed with defiance, his chin tilting, drawing attention to the nearly flawless tanned skin of his face. _Gods,_ how young _was_ he? “RC-2204. My _name_ is Ryker.”

“A commando,” Rex said appreciatively, watching the way Ryker tensed at the word. “That’s impressive. What made you defect?”

“I didn’t defect.” Ryker all but sneered, but hurt flared in his eyes. “I was supposed to be culled, decommissioned, whatever _kriffing_ word they use to make it seem more humane than it actually is.”

“So why weren’t you?” Rex asked. 

“I escaped.” Ryker flashed a small smile. “Commando training ain't very pretty, but it came in handy.”

“Are you defective or something? Why were you being… culled?” That was Skywalker, suspicious once again, and Rex wanted to reach over and deck him, because Ryker’s eyes flickered to him and stayed there, hardening slightly.

“I said no when they told me to leave one of my _vod_ behind. My squad leader reported me for insubordination afterwards.”

“How old are you?” Rex needed to know, because this wasn’t the face of a hardened veteran, this was smooth, _new_ , almost painfully innocent, but he knew underneath that that Ryker was deadly. They all were, because they’d been _trained_ to be so.

“In all technicality,” Ryker drawled, “Eight.”

Rex balked.

_He’s sixteen._

“But I’m old enough to know everything I need to know and more.” Ryker finished defensively, obviously picking up on Rex’s shock. 

“You’re a baby.” Skywalker said suddenly, his face slack with disbelief, and Ryker glared at him.

“Well we’re kind of in high demand at the moment, aren’t we?” 

Skywalker shook his head slightly. “That doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is your next choice of words. Are you an enemy of the Republic?”

Ryker stared for a moment, his hands tightening around his helmet before he slipped it back on. “No.”

Skywalker and Rex shared a look.

“If you’d be so kind, I'd like to leave before Dooku finds out about my little betrayal.” He drawled, his calm, hardened exterior back in place, and Rex frowned. 

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes?”

“How ‘bout no.” Skywalker deadpanned, shaking his head and coming forward to place a hand on Ryker’s shoulder. “Why don’t you… stay?”

Ryker stared at him blankly, hidden by the helmet. “Sorry, sir. I don’t- don’t do well with _this_ anymore. Plus, I couldn’t give up the beskar.”

Rex was surprised when Skywalker _did_ let Ryker go, albeit hours later, as he watched the sleek ship glide out of the hangar and into the dark expanse of space. Skywalker was silent beside him, only speaking when the hangar doors closed once more. “Think we did the right thing?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

He _hoped_ they had. But the idea of a rebellious Republic Commando running rampant didn’t bode well with him.

_At least Boba has some competition now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took a disappointingly long time and it’s horrible. and short. i’m super super sorry about that, and will make it up to you with the next chapters! this one was very slow, and was more to further the plot than anything. ryker is a good boi, promise, and cody is safe! for now.
> 
> next chapter should be up VERY soon and will be VERY long because i’m disappointed with myself on this one and want to make it up to you guys! prepare for another mission, angst and injuries next chapter, because i’m that bitch and i love writing my boys in pain. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! <3


	11. mine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin: How’s the most beautiful person in the world doing?
> 
> Rex: I don’t know, how-
> 
> Fives, from across the room: I’m doing great, thanks.

_“CT-7567-“_

_Rex sucks in a breath, stares up at the tall Jedi before him and fights the urge to shrink back._

_“Do you have a malfunction in your design?”_

_This is… impossible, Krell is dead, gone, executed by Dogma. He’d watched his body fall, he’d seen him breathe his last breath, he wasn’t-_

_“Feeble minded clone,” Krell laughs, dark and loud, and Rex blinks and the Jedi’s gone. Umbara surrounds him, dark, and mist swirls around his legs._

_He can’t see._

_“Some clones are just defective-“_

_Krell is all around him, his voice echoing, vibrating through Rex’s chest and penetrating to his very core. He takes a stumbling step forward, his breath nothing but whistles in his throat, and he keeps running, keeps trying to escape the fog that drowns him, but if anything, it becomes thicker, more suffocating._

_“-they aren’t able to succumb to authority.”_

_Rex hits something hard, so hard that he stumbles backwards until he falls, the breath knocked out of him. He looks up and-_

_Waxer stares back at him, eyes blank, dead._

**_“Everybody stop firing!”_ ** _That's his own voice, and Rex scrambles back when Waxer takes an unsteady, wobbly step forward, his movements jerky, uncoordinated._ **_“We’re shooting at our own men!”_ **

_“Rex,” Waxer gasps, and then he coughs wetly, black blood flowing over his lips, his expression one of pain. But then it shifts into something dark, primal, and a gurgling sound rises in his throat._

_Waxer lunges for him, and, with a gasp, Rex brings his arms up to protect his face, his eyes clenched shut. However, nothing happens._

_Hesitantly, he cracks open an eye, peeking out from beneath his arms and only catching sight of the murky Umbaran landscape beyond._

_“He was right. I_ **_was_ ** _using you.”_

_A lightsaber ignites behind him, and Rex lurches to his feet, whirling to face the threat, only to freeze. Pralua stares back at him, face blank, eyes cold, and the lightsaber she holds casts an otherworldly glow around them._

_Her eyes were yellow._

_“S-Sir?” His throat constricts around the word, and he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes stinging._

_Then she laughs, humorless, and she takes a step forward, and another, but Rex can’t seem to make himself move. When Pralua speaks, it's Krell’s voice, and Rex will never get the sound and image out of his head for as long as he lives._

_“You never learn, Captain.”_

_This time, Rex doesn’t flinch away from the blow, but unlike last time, this one he can_ feel _. The lightsaber burns through his chest with a_ hiss _, and Rex’s mouth opens on a pained gasp,_ **_his_ ** _Jedi’s name on the tip of his tongue, but he bites his lip to suppress it._

 _Pralua grabs his chin, tilts his face up to look into his eyes, and Rex doesn’t try to pull away, wincing when the ‘saber is shoved even deeper into his ruined chest. “You’re all the same._ **_Pathetic_** _.”_

_He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, Pralua is gone, along with the pain in his chest. But the wound still remains, and when he looks down, the injury is deep, an ugly, grotesque thing, and he places a hand over it numbly._

_Rex lets his head hang, exhaustion setting deep and resilient in his bones, and he can’t even begin to deny the accusation that hung heavy in the air._

_He’s being lifted, suddenly, a crushing force at his throat, and he chokes, gags, his legs kicking out weakly in protest as his hands scratch at his neck. Krell’s hand doesn’t waver, and if anything, he tightens his hold until Rex feels that his neck will_ snap _, but then, the grip loosens, and Rex is falling._

_He lands on his feet, tottering slightly from the impact, and looks up sharply when something is tossed at him. He catches it absentmindedly, staring down at the blaster in his grip and then back at the Jedi._

_He knows what Krell wants without it having to be said, and he raises the pistol slowly, his breath shaky and uneven._

_“You’re shaking, aren’t you?”_

_He is. He’s shaking so hard that the damn gun is practically_ vibrating _. Rex grits his teeth and tries to steady it anyway._

_“You can’t do it, can you?”_

_Rex doesn’t hesitate, not this time, and he closes his eyes tight before pulling the trigger. He opens his eyes in shock at the pained whimper in front of him._

_It’s Skywalker, instead of Krell._

_His blue eyes were wide with shock, a tendril of smoke drifting from the hole in his chest, and Skywalker looked down at it unseeing before looking back at Rex. Then his Jedi smiled, but his eyes were turning dull. His mouth moves, as if he’s saying something, but the silence is deafening, and Rex wants to_ scream, _and then Skywalker falls. Into the fog, disappearing, and Rex tripped back, choking on his own breaths and throwing the pistol away-_

He wakes more quietly than he’d anticipated, just a small breath before his eyes opened, the grey durasteel above him groaning a greeting. Adrenaline thrums heavy in his veins, and he throws his leg over the side of his bunk, standing and pulling on his armor. His hands don’t shake. If anything, he feels calm. 

Rex slaps the control to the door, barely allowing it time to open before he’s stumbling out. He knows where he’s going, but can’t seem to stop himself. It’s a need, deep in his bones, to protect his Jedi, to make sure he’s safe, and he’s in front of Skywalker’s door before he has time to collect his thoughts.

Before he can knock, the door slides open, and Skywalker’s in front of him, hair mussed and eyes glassy. “Rex?”

He’s staring, he knows he is, but he has a strange nostalgic feeling, one that demands that he take his time, so he takes a deep breath, swallows, fights the urge to surge forward and wrap his arms around the other man’s waist. “Just checking up on you, sir.”

Skywalker leaned against the doorframe, a confused smile on his face. “Checking up on me?”

Rex blinks, and he’s suddenly back to himself. He stubbornly pushes down the embarrassment that threatens to rise and instead nods, trying not to stare into those blue eyes for too long because _kriff, he would do anything for him if Skywalker just said the word._ “Yes, sir.” He’s desperately trying to save his reputation now, because Skywalker's brow is furrowing, and _osik,_ he needs to- “Do you need anything?”

His Jedi frowns suddenly. “Are you okay?”

“Of course, I was just- wondering if _you_ were.”

Skywalker reaches forward and his hand settles on Rex’s forehead, feeling, and Rex doesn’t stop himself from leaning into the touch. It’s not a secret that they’re all a little touch starved, and it’s an unconscious reaction. His Jedi smiles, forced. “You _feel_ fine.” 

“I _am_ fine, sir.” 

Skywalker hummed, a playful smile on his face. “One would think, Captain, that you just wanted to see me.”

Rex’s face heated, but he didn’t deny it. Then, a light from inside the room caught his attention. It was a holotable, almost painfully bright in the dark, and Rex startled slightly at the battle plans displayed on it. He glanced at Skywalker, saw the Jedi watching his expression carefully. “Are we being sent out again, sir?”

“Yes,” his voice was soft, regretful, and immediately whatever semblance of normalcy they’d had vanished. There was silence for a moment, and then Skywalker took a step back. Rex _thought_ that the door would slide shut, that that would be the end of their conversation, but then Skywalker jerked his head for him to enter, and, surprised, he complied. 

When the door slid shut again, darkness engulfed them, and Rex took a step closer to the holotable, a shiver trailing up his spine. Skywalker’s eyes had no right to be so vividly stunning, and no matter how many times he saw it, it would always make Rex’s breath catch. Something it had no business doing. “What keeps you up at night?” The Jedi suddenly blurted.

“Sir?” Rex prompted, frowning, and Skywalker rubbed a hand across his face, as if tired. 

“I can feel you.” Rex blinked, confused. Skywalker continued. “It’s… difficult to describe. Your emotions are strong, like… like you’re projecting them, releasing them into the Force. Which is crazy,” Skywalker laughed, shaking his head. “You're not a Jedi.”

Something in Rex twisted at that, and he frowned. He couldn’t help but ask, keeping his voice soft, the question burning within him. “Do I keep you up?”

A pause. “It’s fine, Rex-“

“Sir,” he said, embarrassed, horrified, _confused,_ because he’d thought he’d had such a tight rein on his emotions, thought he’d had more control over himself than that. “I’m affecting the efficiency of this battalion by affecting you. I didn’t- I had no idea.”

Skywalker frowned, took a step forward, and the close proximity brought the ever present memory of those teeth dragging down his neck, those lips brushing against his skin, and Rex had to try very hard to force his eyes back to Skywalker’s instead of the expanse of skin at the Jedi’s neck. “Why do you deny yourself the right to feel?” A hand on his chest, right over his heart, and Rex swore that he could feel the heat soaking through his armor. “The right to think?” His Jedi stepped closer, so close that their chests almost touched, and Rex wasn’t _breathing_ because- A kiss, soft, brushed just against his temple before it was gone. “The right to be human, like the rest of us?” A hand at his side, rubbing up and down between plates of armor, and _kriff,_ Skywalker had remembered exactly where to touch that had tension bleeding from his muscles. “Because let me tell you, Rex,” That voice was pure sin, and Rex had to close his eyes before he did something he would regret. He felt Skywalker's head tilt forward until their foreheads touched in the gentlest of touches, and Rex let out a small breath. “You’re human.”

And then, there’s movement, Skywalker pressing closer, until they’re touching, chest to chest, their hips _dangerously_ close, and their lips only a scant inch apart, their breath mingling together, and Rex shivers. Those eyes are one him, a silent question that he already knows the answer to swirling in them, and Rex lets himself relax, leans into his touch, because it feels _right._ It's electrifying, his muscles quivering with the need to act, the need to do something, _anything,_ but that all means nothing when his Jedi finally closes the distance and their lips meet. 

It’s soft, gentle, and so unlike anything he’s ever felt that all rational thought leaves his head, and before he knows it he has a hand on Skywalker’s shoulder, and another at the back of his neck, and his Jedi hums, the vibrations a pleasant tingle against his lips. It lasts longer than he’d anticipated, and his chest burns with the need for air but Rex doesn’t pull away, can’t bring himself to. Skywalker does it for him, breathing hard, his eyes a little hazy. Rex swallows, hyper aware of every touch on his skin, panting and pupils blown. “I think there’s a rule somewhere about this,” he breathes, his stomach flipping when Skywalker smiles, nice and slow, before tugging him until his knees hit the edge of the bunk, his breath leaving him in a rush as he falls back. And his Jedi, his _kriffing_ Jedi, is above him, eyes bright and hands wandering everywhere as they start to slowly work off the straps of his armor. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Then, head cocked, Skywalker tugs at the straps around his shoulders playfully. “Want to break it?”

Rex grins. “I think we already have.”

* * *

A beeping, shrill and insistent, wakes him, and Rex grumbles, pressing closer to the warmth beside him and inhaling deeply. The warmth shifts, moves to reach over him, and then the beeping stops. 

“Skywalker.”

 _“General.”_ That’s Fives, and Rex opened his eyes, sitting up blearily and blinking at the comm held in Sk- _Anakin’s_ hands, fighting the heat that crept up his neck when his Jedi winked at him, shirtless and warm and _kriff, Rex could stay here all day. “Where are you, sir? We were scheduled to leave an hour ago.”_

Rex balked before vaulting out of bed, tugging on his blacks and armor, ignoring the amusement in Anakin’s eyes. “Sorry, Fives, got a little sidetracked. We’ll be there in five.”

A pause. _“We, sir?”_

Anakin smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Rex shook his head, signaling rapidly _no_ because Fives did _not need to know about-_ “Me and Rex. Like I said, we’ll be there.” Then the comm was switched off, and Rex just stared, horrified, and Anakin laughed. 

“C’mon, Rex, did you actually think they wouldn’t find out sooner or later?”

“Later is the key word,” Rex grumbled, picking up his helmet and slipping it on. Anakin was shrugging on his own clothes but stopped and made a disapproving noise. “What?”

His Jedi stepped close enough to grab at his waist, pulling his helmet off and giving him a kiss, long and deep. Once satisfied, Anakin pulled back, beaming. “There. Now we’re ready.”

Rex rolled his eyes b before tugging his helmet back on. “Maybe I should leave first, that way if anyone besides the _vod-“_

“Relax, Rex.” Anakin teased, slipping out of his quarters and motioning Rex to follow. “We’re fine. We were… going over battle strategies.” He wiggles his eyebrows and winks, and Rex groans. 

“Please don’t ever do that again, sir.”

“Ooh,” Anakin sang, “So it’s _sir_ again.”

Rex rolled his eyes again, but it was a half-hearted gesture, and he quickened his pace. It was bad enough he hadn’t had the mind to slink back to his own bunk after their little _escapade,_ but the fact that he now had to do the walk of shame _while_ being late for their departure?

Add it to the list of things he needed to be sure to _never_ do again. 

The hangar was full, and Rex tried very hard not to stiffen when those eyes swung to watch them. Anakin was as confident as always, his steps never faltering. “Show time,” he murmured, before he smirked, walking up to Hawk, who looked unimpressed. 

“Thanks for waiting on us.”

Hawk just started to climb into the cockpit, shaking his head slightly. “Can’t exactly leave the General, sir, now can I?”

It was like a bucket of cold water on Rex, and he sheepishly slipped into the gunship, being sure to not draw attention to himself. Anakin was the _General,_ and Rex was the _Captain._ How did it look to their men when they just… showed up late?

Fives sidled up next to him, Echo beside him, along with Jesse and Kix, and Rex braced himself for their interrogation. As if on cue, Fives begrudgingly handed a couple of credits to Echo, who took them smugly. 

“You two _bet_ o-“

“Oh, _no, vod_ ,” Fives looked up innocently before his grin turned devilish. “It wasn’t just us two. The entire 501st has been betting on this.”

“ _We_ didn’t, by the way.” Jesse chimed in carefully, interrupted by Kix, who was staring hard at Rex. 

“I take it you were safe?”

Rex groaned. “What the _kriff, vod?_ What is with you gu-“

“We’re just curious, sir.” Echo shrugged. “Not all of us get to fu-“

“Alright, alright,” Rex cut them off, waving a hand and pushing Fives away, who kept leaning over to try and smell him. “That’s enough. It’s none of your bu- _What_ are you doing?”

“I’m seeing if you smell like him.” Fives elaborated, before sniffing as if to prove his point, ignoring the disgusted look Kix threw his way. The doors to the gunship sliding closed thankfully saved him from any more commentary, and the troopers carefully slid on their helmets, checking gear and supplies before giving a thumbs up to the pilots. 

They weren’t even out of the hangar before Fives leaned over again, his voice low and teasing. “You do, by the way.”

* * *

Cody can remember being naive. The galaxy held a colossal, monstrous amount of planets, and he hadn’t been stupid. He’d _known_ that other species would be… _different,_ that people could be cruel, but he’d pushed it to the farthest part of his mind.

He remembers gawking out at the wide expanse of stars, the amazement and awe that he was a _part of it,_ that he played a role in one of the most vital moments in galactic history. 

That was before he’d realized exactly how people saw him, how people acted around things that they didn’t understand, around things that they _feared._ He realizes, vaguely, that they must hate him, because there’s no other explanation for the dirty looks currently being thrown his way, or the harshly whispered, _“It’s one of_ **_them_** _”_ or, his favorite, _“Is there a human under all that armor”._

Cody huffed, remaining dutifully still as he waited on Obi-Wan to finish meeting with their informant. The lower levels of Coruscant, he noted with a hint of disgust, were nothing like the bustling city life above. 

A flash of movement in his peripheral had him turning, and he frowned when he saw nothing. Cody glanced back at the door to the shabby living space Kenobi had entered before taking a cautious step forward. Something was wrong, he could feel it, his gut jumping in warning. “Anybody there?” He called, flipping on his light and shining it into the murky darkness around him. The entrance to an alley greeted him farther away, and the closer he got, the more something screamed at him to _run._

Cody ignored it, setting his mouth in a grim line before entering. It was grimy, and the rancid smell of decay and feces reached his nose even through the helmets filters, and he gagged slightly. Then, lightning fast, something hit him _hard_ across the helmet, knocking it off, and with it, the light. Cody kept his breaths quiet, crouching in a defensive position, trying to squint through the darkness and seeing nothing. The faintest sound, to his right, and Cody shifted accordingly. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blow to his face. 

His lip stung, split, and he spat before resuming his position, no longer able to mask his panting breaths. Another jab, fast and deadly efficient to his gut, and his breath left him unceremoniously. It was easy, then, for his attacker to wrestle him to the ground. 

Cody kicked out, growling, but froze when he felt the telltale tip of a blade against his ribs. “Easy, Commander.” A voice purred, definitely not female if judging from the rough quality, and the hand around his throat squeezed in warning. “Now, I need you to be a good boy and cooperate, or else this can get… unpleasant for you.”

Cody panted, straining experimentally against his assailant's hold, but went still and gasped when the vibroblade broke through his skin, a stinging cut that promised more. “Go kriff yourself.” He snarled, growling again when his attacker just laughed. 

“They told me you’d be a fiery one.” Then, the hold tightened until his air was cut off, and Cody choked, involuntary jerking, making the vibroblade slide in deeper. Stuck and uncertain as to how to respond, Cody forced himself to ease back until his head touched the ground. Only then did the grip loosen. “There, see? Simple. You comply and do as I say, this ends quickly for you.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Cody rasped, voice hoarse. Where the _kriff_ was Kenobi? He should’ve been done, should’ve noticed Cody was gone.

“I don’t know you, _Cody,_ but my client wants you dead. And that is unfortunate.” A pause, then, an amused, “For you, at least.”

A needle at his neck, cold and thick, and Cody resisted the urge to jolt, instead swallowing harshly. “W-What is that?”

“We’re going to play a game, Commander, since my client wants to make this especially interesting. If your precious Jedi can find you, get you back to your barracks and administer the antidote to you in time, then you’ll be fine.” A soft touch at his jaw, tracing, a thumb brushing against his bottom lip. “If not, well… this strain of spice is supposed to end in an extremely painful death if given in the right amount.” His attacker leaned closer until their mouth almost touched his ear. “And I have the right amount.”

The needle was jabbed in harder than necessary, and Cody let out a small noise, bucking against the body on top of him, his attacker not giving in the slightest. Then the weight was gone, but Cody didn’t dare move for fear of a knife between the ribs. 

“Until next time, Commander.”

Cody lay there for a moment, panting, trying to get his limbs to move, and after a moment of strain, they cooperated. With the darkness surrounding him, he couldn’t _see_ his vision go spotty, but his head swam, and he fell back down to the dirty stone with a groan, his head throbbing.

_Get to Kenobi. He can help._

He struggled to his feet again, pressing a hand loosely on the stab wound and taking a step forward. His stomach was in knots, and he hadn’t made it more than three more steps before he stopped and sank to his knees, vomiting, his sides heaving, his eyes burning from the strain. Cody coughed, felt the strong acidic taste of bile on his tongue and wiped a hand across his mouth, shakily trying to stand again.

His strength seemed like a distant thing, his arms feeling heavy and weighted. Gravity eventually won, and he sat down hard, staring longingly at the grimy street lamp just beyond. Then, as if in a haze, he reached for his comm, thumbing it on. 

Kenobi answered almost immediately. _“Cody. Everything alright? We’re almost done here.”_

Cody stared hard at his hand. What had he been calling for? Confusion, deep and heavy settled in, and he swallowed the whine in his throat. “Hurts.” That seemed the best thing to say. It was true, after all. 

There was a pause from Kenobi before he responded again, his voice sharp with worry. _“Cody, what’s happened? Are you okay?”_

His side and head throbbed in time with his heart, and Cody squeezed his eyes shut, straining against the fire racing through his veins. He couldn’t stop the moan that fell from his lips. “Mind hurts.”

 _“You’re mind?”_ The sound of someone standing, someone else talking angrily in the background. _“Cody, where are you?”_

“Hurts.”

_“I know, it’s okay, I can help. Do you know where you are?”_

Cody looked around dazedly. “Dark. ‘s real dark.”

_“Okay, I can- Cody, do you see the-“_

“Hurts.”

_“Cody, listen to me very carefully. I know it hurts, but I need you to focus. The little red button on your comm, I need you to press it. It will send me your location, and then I can make it stop, okay?”_

That sounded- nice, actually, and Cody squinted down again at his comm, just making out the described button, and he pressed it slowly, startled when it started flashing. 

_“Good, that’s good. I’m coming to get you. How badly are you hurt?”_

“Hurts.”

_“Where exactly?”_

“Everywhere.”

There was a long pause and a muffled curse. _“I promise I’m almost there. Kriff, Cody, why did you wander so far?”_

“Tired.”

_“Stay awake.”_

“Real tired,” Cody slurred, his hands starting to shake even as his legs became numb. 

_“Stay. Awake. That’s an order, Cody.”_

Cody whined, tugging at his hair and panting, letting himself fall back to sprawl across the dirty stone. “Gedet'ye.” He didn’t know what he was begging for. His cooked brain was running overtime, and he jumped when a boot scuffing against stone sounded from somewhere behind him. 

“Cody.”

A hand on his chest, a sudden flash of heat through him, too hot, too much, even through the armor, and Cody pushed it away, writhing and tugging at his chestplate. “Hot.”

“Okay, that’s okay.” A hand in his hair, soft, gentle, and Cody leaned into it, satisfied when the touch was significantly cooler than the first. _“Kriff,_ you’re burning up.” The sound of clothes rustling, a beep. “Waxer, I need a transport at my location now, with medical staff and equipment on board.” Another pause. “It’s Cody. He’s… somethings wrong. Get that ship here. _Now.”_

“General,” Cody mumbled, tugging at the man’s robes, and Kenobi glanced over at him. Cody noticed absently that his eyes were pretty, a pale blue-grey, piercing, and something in his expression must have given him away, because Kenobi frowned in concern.

“Cody, what happened?”

A sharp stab of pain at his temple had Cody wincing, trying to curl up tighter into himself. “Hurts.”

“Right,” Kenobi said, sounding flustered and a little unsure. “Help is on the way, Just hold on. I’m right here.”

Once the pain passed, Cody slumped, breathing hard and exhausted, and, through his rapidly failing eyesight, he watched his Jedi. There were worse ways to die, he supposed.

* * *

“We got another one today.”

Rex glanced up from the holotable, narrowing his eyes at Fives, who looked oddly serious. “Another what?”

“Shiny.” Fives elaborated, the tent flap whipping angrily and almost drowning out his words. “He’s nine, Rex. He’s a kid.”

“Tup was nine when he came to us.” Rex tried, looking away from Fives’ weighted gaze. 

“Yeah, and he turned ten not long after. This kid _just_ turned nine.” Fives shifted, crossing his arms. “They’re sending them out younger.”

“They have to.” It was true, in a sadistic, cruel way. _Vod_ were dying every day, hundreds of them, and in turn, demand would be high. “We lose men, Fives. Someone has to replace them.”

“He doesn’t even have a name.” Fives snarled, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “He’s not even- _kriff,_ Rex, he’s not even fought in a battle yet.”

Rex stared at him, because what did he expect him to do? To hold his hand? Maybe send him back to Kamino, file a complaint about the kid’s age? “What do you want me to do?” He finally asked quietly, and he didn’t realize how bored his tone sounded until he saw Fives’ eyes darken, his mouth setting into a grim line.

“Just because you have your _jetii_ now doesn’t mean your _vod_ mean less.” Then, head cocking, Fives looked him up and down, assessing. “Or does it?”

Rex grabbed him without a second thought, pulling him forward before slamming him hard into the crates stacked in the corner. “Shut your _karking_ mouth, di’kut.” He snarled, and Fives grinned, feral, shoving Rex’s hands off of his shoulders.

“So that’s what it takes to get a reaction from you.” He cooed mockingly, before his eyes went hard again. “If _you_ won’t protect him, I will. Just don’t get in my way when it comes to it.”

And then he was gone, brushing past him in a turmoil of emotions that briefly passed over Rex before vanishing as well. Rex had been _busy,_ far too busy to go do social calls amongst his men. The war was escalating, and he’d been given his own quarters on the _Resolute._ Did they expect him to refuse his one gift of privacy, his _very own quarters,_ to bunk with them? To listen to them scream and cry and _hurt_ while he could do nothing but lay there and listen? Frustrated, he grit his teeth, running a hand over his hair before letting out a harsh breath. 

_Fuck._

* * *

The shiny had, surprisingly, stuck by _Echo._

At first Fives had been a little disgruntled, because _he_ had talked to him first, had invited him to sit with Torrent, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame the kid. Echo was… Echo. Soft spoken, kind, patient- _a quality which Fives had yet to acquire, unfortunately-_ but still strong and brave, resilient and intelligent in the heat of battle. So yes, Fives didn’t blame him. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still be a little _bitter_ about it.

“So,” The shiny- CT-5808- began slowly, staring into the fire as if in a daze, and Fives resisted the urge to reprimand him, tell him that he was impairing his vision, that he wouldn’t be able to see if they _were_ attacked, but he doesn’t want to scare him. At least not yet. “What's the Captain like? I haven’t met him yet.”

Echo arches an eyebrow from where he sits next to ‘08 before knocking their shoulders together gently, snapping the kid from his trance. “You never heard of _the_ Captain Rex?” His voice was teasing, but ‘08 swallowed nervously.”

“Oh, no, sir, trust me, I’ve heard about him. I just… I don't know if what I heard is true, that’s all.”

Echo made a face. “Please don’t call me sir, being an ARC doesn’t make me any more special than you.”

A lie. And judging by the way the kid frowned down at his gauntlets, he knew it too. Kix chose that moment to sidle up, grumbling obscenities under his breath before plopping down beside Jesse. Then, looking up, he glanced between ‘08 and Fives. “Who’s this?”

“CT-5808, sir.”

Kix hummed. “Kix.” He introduced with a smile, ignoring Jesse entirely, who was trying to gain his attention. “I’m the medic.” As an afterthought, he added, “You have a name?”

CT-5808 ducked his head, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “No. Guess I never really did anything extravagant enough to get one.”

“We’ll find you one.” Echo assured, and ‘08 nodded, shifting slightly as if uneasy. His armor was lacking color of any type, stating plainly exactly _what_ he was, and, determined, Fives stood.

“C’mon. There’s paint in the supply tent.” ‘08 just blinked owlishly at him, confused. Echo nudged him to his feet.

“You need colors, kid.”

“Ah,” Was all ‘08 said, and he looked down at his white armor in embarrassment before following after Fives. Then, when they were out of range from the others, ‘08 tentatively spoke. “Excuse me, sir?”

Fives glanced back at him, waiting for him to continue. ‘08 averted his gaze, his cheeks reddening again. “Why are you doing this? I mean, it’s nice and all, but you guys are _Torrent.”_ ‘08 laughed nervously. “And you’re an ARC. I’m just a gru-“

“Hey,” Fives snapped, and ‘08 shut his mouth fast, his eyes widening a fraction. “First of all, you’re 501st, which makes you just as obligated to this as any of the others. Secondly,” Fives paused at the opening of the tent, before shrugging and stepping through. “Well, I don’t know yet. Just felt right, I guess.”

‘08 was quiet a moment, contemplating, his brows furrowed in thought, and Fives had to turn away to stop himself from grabbing the _karking_ kid and getting him the hell out of there. He was too innocent, his eyes too clear, too pure, and it was making his stomach clench with guilt. 

How do you prepare someone for their first battle? How do you tell them that they may not make it back? No, that there’s a _high_ probability that they’ll _die,_ cold and alone, a hole burnt through their chest? You didn’t.

“Tomorrow, stick with me or Echo.” Fives said casually, tossing the pail of paint to ‘08, who caught it, barley. “We’ll get you through it.” The look of relief on ‘08’s face was almost comical, but Fives didn’t blame him. The odds of a shiny surviving their first battle were slim. Even more so in these battles, the ones where the Separatists were desperate to win, the ones where it was brutally savage.

He wondered how ‘08 would react to seeing a dead _vod_ for the first time, wondered if he would keep going, or if he would freeze, like so many others did.

“Sir?” ‘08 asked softly, and when Fives looked up, the shiny was staring at him worriedly, and Fives gave him a confident smile.

“Sorry. Just thinking.” He grabbed ‘08 by the elbow and steered him back out. “Now c’mon, that needs painting, and Kix has a steady hand. He can help.”

‘08 nodded, walking beside him step for step despite being shorter, asking questions, slowly starting to loosen the more and more they talked, and Fives realized too late that he’d made a _dangerous_ fucking mistake. 

_I’m not supposed to get attached._

* * *

Cody was burning.

His blood was boiling, flowing black and hot in his veins, and he writhed desperately, panting and tugging at his armor. It needed to come _off,_ he needed to cool down- _hot, hothothot-_

“Cody,” That's his name, spoken firmly but softly, and something within him reacts to it, reaches for a name to place it with and comes up blank. “You’re alright, dear one, you need to stay still.”

He frowns, or thinks he does, and lets out a high pitched noise, trying to open his eyes and failing. His heart is racing, adrenaline pumping faster than he can comprehend, and yet he still can’t gain control of himself. He kicks out uselessly, hears someone else murmuring soothing words beside him, and blocks them out completely. 

Cody claws at his chestplate, letting out a gasp of relief when the straps finally come loose and the armor falls away. 

“He _does_ have a fever, but not one that should be affecting him to this extent.” Someone says, confused, their voice entirely too loud, and Cody frowns in their direction. Then, softer, “Sorry, sir.”

“Hot.” He tries, but his voice breaks, and the word is lost. A hand touches his forehead, cool and light, and when it moves to pull away, he tries to follow it, disappointed when his neck can’t crane far enough, and he lets his head drop with a _thud._

“The IV will help flush his system until we get to the infirmary. Trot, you got those scans?”

“Yeah, they're-“

Cody doesn’t hear what he says, because he’s opened his eyes, and through his murky vision, he makes out the distinct, damning shape. He tenses, because that was- that was _bad,_ that was what that man had held, the thing that had _hurt him,_ and as soon as the person- a _vod-_ kneels next to him, he shifts away. 

“Just an IV, sir. It’ll help.”

Cody doesn’t care if it’s the cure to the karking Geonosian Swamp Flu, that thing isn’t getting _anywhere near him,_ and he cradles his arm to his chest, turning away from the trooper. However, he’s easily- embarrassingly so- held down by another set of hands on his shoulders, and another at his legs, and-

_Hot. Too close, too much, off, offoffoff-_

Except they _don’t_ get off, and the needle is getting closer, and Cody- he can’t breathe, can’t think, and his throat is so _kriffing tight_ and he’s going to-

“Breathe, Cody.”

The needle pierced his skin, sharp and aching, and Cody jerks, makes a wounded noise. And they’re _still holding him down_ and their touch is too much, all over him, and he bucks, a choked noise escaping him when their hold only tightens.

“He’s hyperventilating.”

_Get off me._

“Let go of him.” Someone- Kenobi- says, and almost instantly the hands leave, and with them, so does some of the heat. Cody sucks in a breath, let’s out a shaky one in turn. “Cody, can you hear me?”

“ _Elek._ ” He croaks.

“Alright, that’s good. Do you know who I am?”

“Jedi. K-Kenobi.”

Someone snorts, but the sound is far off, distant. “Very good, Cody.” The praise would normally cause that warm feeling to come over him, but now, it’s entirely unwelcome in the current circumstance. 

“‘m I dying?”

“No. Not this time.”

Cody blinked at that, the ship shuddering softly beneath him. 

“We have to move him, sir.” A pause, and he felt Kenobi shift beside him. 

“Cody, I’m going to put you under, is that okay?” Cody is tempted to smile, because of course his Jedi would ask, would make sure that he was comfortable with him using the _Force_ to _help_ _him._

He lets out a breath, prepares for the warm probing of Kenobi’s mind against his own. “ _Elek.”_

Then, a hand, pressing lightly at his temple, the brush of another’s conscience against his own, and he fights it briefly, not wanting to _sleep_ when he knows the medics will be more than likely stripping him for a full body examination, but then there’s that coaxing voice in his head, thoughts that aren’t his own.

_Sleep, Cody._

He doesn’t want to, he _really_ doesn’t want to, but Cody has never disobeyed his General. There’s no reason he would start now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen. one of these days i’m going to stop making precious too-young clone troopers that are in desperate need of love, but today is not that day. CT-5808 is just a little side character, because I’m weak like that. I will be taking name suggestions (it’s actually super complicated?? like, i need ideas as to how he’ll get the name as well, because their names always have meaning/significance) so comment what name you think he should get!
> 
> disclaimer: cody and obi-wan share one (1) brain cell.
> 
> also this is super random, but any other ships you’d want to see in here? already have jesse/kix, obi-wan and cody, but i feel like it needs a little something more. just lemme know!
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading lovelies! I love you guys and hope you’re all staying safe! <3


	12. ghosts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _let’s make gods out of these hollow corpses_

CT-5808 knows, rationally, that he will more than likely die. He knows it like he knows his armor, like he knows the cool touch of his blaster in his palm. That doesn’t make it easier, though, and he unconsciously leans closer to Echo, who glances at him and smiles reassuringly.

He wonders if he’ll ever get to the point they’ve reached, the point that it’s simply battle, simply a _job._ ‘08 looks down at his armor, runs a finger down the stripe of blue on his forearm before catching himself. It’s different, the colors, a far cry from the stark white he’s so used to doning.

“Relax.” Fives murmurs, his eyes not even _on ‘_ 08, and he wonders how he just _knows_ what he’s feeling, how he seems to know what he’s thinking without him even voicing it. ‘08 guesses that it’s something that comes with age, and he tries his hardest to comply. A futile effort, but an effort nonetheless. “You’ll be fine.”

He nods, takes a deep breath.

_One, two, three- out, one, two, three._

When Echo and Fives pull on their helmets, ‘08 follows their lead, falling into a loose parade rest that seems too little for the figure that steps before them. He knows without asking that it’s the Captain, and he feels a pang of nervousness when that helmet swings towards him, pausing as if assessing, and ‘08 swallows harshly.

Fives shifts forward, just slightly, until he’s almost completely blocking the Captain’s view, and the helmet tilts sharply towards the ARC trooper instead. There’s an unspoken battle going on between them, the tension palpable, and ‘08 wonders why, but then the Captain is moving again, coming to stand in perfect form before them.

“Our intel says the village is clear.” Is all the Captain says, and a chorus of snickers rise from the older vode, making ‘08 jump. “You know as well as I do they’re wrong. They’ll be waiting, and they have the advantage. Be smart, stay together, and,” The Captain’s gaze moves back to Fives, and ‘08 swears his voice hardens. “No heroics.”

Fives scoffs quietly, murmuring a string of curses that has ‘08 shocked, before the Captain says, in a lighter tone, “Last today, _vode,_ and the 104th will come help pick up the scraps.” There’s a mock howl from somewhere behind ‘08, and the ranks erupt in laughter. And then the Captain is gone, stepping to the side where-

‘08 sucks in a breath, nudges Echo discreetly with his elbow. “Is that our _jetii?”_

Echo makes an amused noise. “Yeah, that’s General Skywalker. Craziest Jedi you’ll ever meet, but one of the best.”

‘08 falls silent at that, but still watches the General out of his peripheral, a little awed at the hilt of the weapon that hangs from the Jedi’s belt. When they move out, ‘08 takes Fives’ previous advice, and sticks close, his nerves a jumbled mess.

But, when Echo starts talking quietly, not really anything particularly important, just any nonsense that seems to cross his mind, ‘08 smiles, and he finds that he doesn’t mind this so much after all.

* * *

“Yes, right there, right- holy shit, I-“

“If you keep making those noises, someone’s going to get the wrong idea.”

“I don’t care, this feels _kriffing_ _amazing._ ” Comet moaned, and Wolffe rolled his eyes, scratched a little harder, and Comet shivered. “You are the best back scratcher in the entire damn galaxy, and don’t forget it.”

“Duly noted.” He said dryly, removing his hand and ignoring Comet’s whined protest. “Now go to sleep.”

Comet pouted before huffing and flipping over onto his back, his movements nearly sending Wolffe off the cot completely, and he shot him a dark look. Comet, however, just grinned, shuffling around and trying to get comfortable.

“Go to sleep.” Wolffe growled, and Comet _finally,_ mercifully, ceased his squirming. Satisfied, Wolffe closed his eyes, determined to get some sleep himself, only to have Comet shift _again._

“Sorry.” Comet said quickly, sensing the explosion that was coming, and he became silent once more. Wolffe sighed, looked over at the younger _vod_ curled up against his side, and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

Comet huffed at his question. “I don’t know, I can’t sleep.” Then, wryly, “Plus, I just got the best back scratch that I’ve ever had in my entire life. Forgive me for being a little blissed out.”

 _“Kriff_ off. You’re keeping _me_ up too.” Wolffe grumbled, but smiled slightly when Comet tucked his face against his neck. “What happened to your cot, anyway?”

“It’s uncomfortable.” Comet murmured against his skin, his voice heavy with the beginnings of drowsiness, and Wolffe rolled his eyes.

“They’re the exact same.”

“Not true.”

“It is _too_ and you know it.”

“Would you two _shut the kriff up?”_ Sinker whined, and the telltale sound of a boot being thrown met Wolffe’s ears before Sinker yelped in pain.

 _“Di’kut.”_ Boost snarled, and, knowing exactly where the night was headed, Wolffe cut in.

“Sleep. All of you, or you’re on latrine duty for the foreseeable future.”

There was a small bout of silence. Wolffe knew it wouldn’t last.

“Do you think General Koon loves us?” Wildfire suddenly asked, and half of the 104th within range groaned.

“Not again, _vod.”_

“Shut the hell up and let me sleep.”

“Why are you so needy?”

“So what if he does?”

Wolffe sat upright, in turn startling Comet, who had dozed off, and the younger let out a small noise as his pillow moved, before settling for the thin blanket that Wolffe had abandoned. “Listen up,” Wolffe growled, and the tent lapsed into silence once again. “The next one that talks is getting my foot up their _shebs,_ and a personal recommendation for the 501st. Understand?”

A very disgruntled chorus of “yes sir” was his answer.

“Good. Now _go to sleep.”_

When there was only a few grumbles, Wolffe finally eased back down, sighing in resignation when Comet latched back on to him. “Was that really necessary?” Comet yawned, wrapping an arm securely around his waist before closing his eyes.

“It was _very_ necessary.” Wolffe assured.

* * *

“Cody, sit _down,_ I _will_ sedate you.”

Cody glared at Helix, who glared right back, going so far as to cross his arms and hold up a syringe for emphasis. Cody scoffed. “I’m _fine,_ I swear, I don’t even feel any different!”

Helix narrowed his eyes, then raised a- _noticeably blurry-_ hand. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three.” Cody said confidently.

“Four,” Helix’s tone sounded too damn smug for his own good, and Cody grumbled a curse under his breath. “Your vision is still impaired from traces of the spice, which means you’re staying _right here_. Copy?”

“Copy.” Cody said snidely, huffing as he finally eased back down onto the cot below him. “These cots are horrible, you know.”

“Courtesy of the Republic, _vod._ Only the best for us.”

The door to the infirmary slid open, and Cody squinted in its general direction. The blurry figure hesitated. “Is he still high?”

“I was _not_ high!”

“Nah,” Helix laughed. “He’s just pissed off because he can’t see his _jetii_ now.”

“You insufferable piece of-“ Cody growled.

“I think the Commander will be safe with me, yeah?” Helix made an uncertain noise, and the person continued. “No, seriously. I’ll make sure he rests and stays out of trouble.”

“If I so much as _hear_ about him doing anything remotely related to work...”

“You won’t. Right, _vod?”_

“Right.” Cody nodded enthusiastically. “Longshot?”

Longshot made a happy noise. “Yes sir. See? He’s good enough to realize who I am.”

“Fine.” Helix relented sourly. “Now go, before I change my mind.”

Longshot is gentle, too gentle, and it makes Cody scowl and yank his arm away as soon as they’re out of the infirmary, ignoring Longshot’s “wait, sir-“. “I can walk on my own just fine, thank you.” He snaps.

Pain explodes in his nose, and Cody takes a surprised step back, letting out a curse and a soft “ow” before squinting. Yes, that’s a wall. He glanced over at Longshot in disdain. The younger trooper was biting his lip, but judging by the way his shoulders shook in silent laughter, he wasn’t doing a very good job of controlling his amusement.

“Sorry, sir. I tried to warn you.”

“Just get me to my quarters.” Cody groused, and Longshot nodded, grabbing him by the arm and steering him to the right.

“How’s your nose, sir?”

“Oh, shove it.”

* * *

The battle, while short, was exhausting, and Echo paused to catch his breath, scanning the area around him before glancing back over his shoulder. ‘08 was just disappearing down a back street, and, with a sigh, Echo followed.

“Hey, kid, don’t wander off, especially after a ba-“

‘08 was crouched in front of a wounded _vod,_ removing his helmet, and Echo looked back the way they’d come.

“The medics’ll take care of the wounded. We have to focus on securing the area.”

‘08 didn’t even look up, his hands already tugging off the troopers chest plate and trying to get a look at the wound, removing his own helmet, and Echo bristled.

_If he gets his head shot off, it’s not my fault._

“He’s dying, sir.” ‘08 said softly, and the wounded trooper let out a whimper at that, panic flashing in his eyes, and ‘08 shushed him. “We can’t leave him here.”

Echo was debating about how to tell the kid that this _happened,_ that this was _normal,_ and that, despite his efforts, the trooper would more than likely die _anyway_ when Fives jogged over, his armor burnt and scraped, but alive. “Hey, this block is cleared. We’re movin’ on to hold the square while we wait on the 104th.” Then, Fives’ helmet swiveled to regard ‘08 and the other trooper. “What’s he doing?”

“Helping.” Echo said. “I think.” He switched to their private frequency, but kept an eye on ‘08. “You gonna pull him away? Because I’m sure as hell not doing it.”

Fives’ voice was almost too quiet, even in his helmet. _“It’s a gut wound, the vods a dead man. He’ll learn, eventually, who’s worth saving.”_

Echo snorted at the blunt statement. “You want to tell him that?”

Fives straightened his shoulders, turned to ‘08, and then walked forward and grabbed the kid’s shoulders. “Listen, we have to move.” He pulled, and ‘08 followed reluctantly, glancing down at the trooper apologetically. Except, apparently, the trooper was coherent enough to understand exactly what they were doing.

“W-wait!” The trooper’s legs kicked out weakly, an attempt to stand, before he fell back again, the gray Republic cog turning red with blood in the process. “Don’t leave me, please.”

_It’s always worse when they beg._

‘08 shrugged out of Fives’ hold and dropped back down, grabbing the troopers hand and giving it a squeeze. “I won’t.” He turned to Fives and Echo, looking between the two with an unreadable expression. “I’m staying, you two go ahead.”

Fives took a step forward, but Echo grabbed his arm, shaking his head, and Fives reluctantly followed his unspoken command. “Fine.” Echo knew that tone, knew that Fives was probably _pissed off,_ and judging by the way ‘08’s chin tilted up defiantly, he knew it too. “Catch up when you’re done. It’s not safe after dark.”

‘08 nodded before turning back to the trooper, and Fives turned on his heel and walked away. Echo waited a bit longer, hesitating, but eventually followed after Fives, finding the other ARC waiting for him a little ways beyond.

“He’ll be fine.” Fives scoffed, shaking his head, and Echo fell into step beside him, letting their pauldrons bump together teasingly. “Honestly, Fives. You can’t save everybody.”

“He’s young.” Fives said. “Naive. More so than the others.” Fives glanced over at him, his helmet cocked in that way that said that he was amused. “Sort of like you were, when we were first shipped out.”

“Hey!” Echo squawked, leaning over to punch at his _vod’s_ armored stomach. “I was not.”

“You were _too._ Don’t deny it.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t corrupted at a young age like _you_ were. I had some human decency.”

Fives huffed. “In my defense, I had no idea what was on that holo until I played it, so it really wasn’t my fault.”

“Stealing a trainer’s ‘pad was your first mistake. Your second mistake was showing it to Hardcase.” The joke fell flat, and Fives went quiet.

_Ah, way to ruin the mood, di’kut._

“Do you miss him?” Echo asked quietly.

“Of course.” Fives tone was the most vulnerable it would ever get, and Echo pushed down the selfish part of him that was ecstatic at the revelation, because for Fives to be vulnerable meant he _trusted_ him, maybe trusted him more than anyone else. “Every day. He was the only one crazy enough to keep up with me.”

Echo hummed, opening his mouth to respond, but jumped when a _boom_ rang through the air, glancing up just in time to see a starfighter streak by. The 104th had arrived.

* * *

“If it isn’t my _vod’ika.”_ Wolffe cooed, flashing a sharp smile before slinging an arm across Rex’s shoulders. Then, just as coyly, Wolffe trailed a finger across the purplish mark on his neck that Rex’s blacks barely concealed. “You’re going to have to tell me about _that_ later. For now,” Wolffe retracted his arm fluidly, a smirk still in place before sauntering towards a group of his men, putting on his helmet as he went. “I have work to do.”

“Hello to you, too.” Rex called after him sourly, rolling his eyes when Wolffe gave him a crude hand gesture before disappearing further into the village.

When he turned back to his own men, Echo was watching after Wolffe with a disturbed look. “Is he always like that?”

“Nah, _vod,”_ Rex walked by him and clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s usually more teeth involved.”

The look of horror on Echo’s face was priceless.

* * *

By the time Rex had ordered lights out and all was quiet, ‘08 stumbled into the tent, all but collapsing onto his bedroll.

“Rough day?” Fives whispered quietly, and he heard ‘08 groan.

“You have no idea.” Then, quieter, “I couldn’t... I couldn’t leave them alone to die with no one to hold onto. They needed me.”

And Fives... he gets that. He does. Because he knows what it’s like to know that the closest thing you have to family is dying, he knows what it’s like to be helpless, because Hevy had been _too nice,_ too _fucking sweet for his own good,_ too concerned about others even through his tough exterior, and he was gone. Another _vod_ that Fives had promised to protect. Another one that he had failed. So, around the emotion clogging his throat, he manages to choke out an “I understand”.

He’s surprised, however, when ‘08 carefully gets up from his bedroll and practically crawls over to Fives’ own. The kid hesitates beside it. “Is this okay?”

Instead of replying, Fives scoots back as far as he can, just enough room for ‘08 to slide in beside him and press up against his chest. Fives has never been good with emotions, so he lets out a soft, pained laugh, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around the small- _smelly, but understandably so, considering what ‘08 had been up to all day-_ body curled up against his own. _“Gar bah kriffing reka, ad’ika.”_

‘08 hums, pressing closer until his face is tucked between the juncture of shoulder and neck, letting out a small huff as he finally relaxes.

But suddenly Fives is wide awake, the word sticking out sharply in his mind. “Reka.” Fives murmurs, finally allowing his arm to snake around ‘08’s waist to hold him close, smiling at the small noise it earns him. “You like that name?”

“Do you?”

Fives blinked, startled, but recovered quickly. “Yeah. Suits you.”

Reka hummed, the sound causing vibrations to pass into Fives’ shoulder, and he shivered at the feeling. “‘s nice. ‘night, Fives.”

“Goodnight, Reka.”

* * *

“Would you please stay still and let me hold you?”

Rex huffed but relented, letting himself melt back into the body behind him, and his Jedi made a happy sound, tightening his hold around his waist. “I should really be with the men.”

Anakin pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, and Rex let his eyes slip closed, enjoying the warmth and contentment that washed over him. He wondered if Anakin was leaking his emotions into the Force- _something he did often, seemingly involuntarily-_ or if they were strictly his own. “They’ll be fine. Besides, you need to rest, and you can’t do that if you’re worrying about everyone else.”

“That’s my job.” Rex huffed, grinning when Anakin pinched his hip in reprimand. “Kind of comes with being a Captain.”

“Yeah, well, you need to sleep just like everyone else. Speaking of,” His Jedi burrowed down deeper into the flimsy bedroll. “I’m exhausted. G’night, Rex.”

“‘night, General.”

Anakin groaned but didn’t correct him, and Rex stifled a laugh into his arm. But a little while later, when his Jedi’s breaths turned slow and even, Rex lay awake, staring up at the canvas above him. He hadn’t talked, _actually_ talked, with his men in what felt like ages. There was a tension, just there, but barely, and he had a feeling that if not dealt with, it would effect their performance.

_I just have to manage my time better. Time with Anakin, and time with the vode._

And, with that thought firmly in mind, he finally slept.

* * *

“Up and at ‘em, boys, we’ve got to clear out by 0800.”

Rex ignored the groans thrown his way as he exited the tent, walking over to where Wolffe stood by a stack of crates, staring at a holo. “I’m surprised I didn’t have to drag _your_ _shebs_ out of the tent. What’re you looking at?”

Wolffe was uncharacteristically quiet, his expression unreadable as he continued his viewing of the holo. Then, when Rex huffed, he looked up, but the apology in his eyes made Rex hesitate.

“What is it?”

“We received this late last night.” Wolffe tilted the holo just so, and Rex stiffened when he caught sight of what- or _who-_ was on it. “General Pralua is currently in a briefing with our Generals.” Wolffe’s voice dropped into a murmur, the softest it would ever get, and a hand was placed on his pauldron comfortingly. “I’m sorry, _vod._ I had no idea that a joint operation was called in.”

And, now that Rex was looking, there _was_ another battalion there, but they were stationed at the edge of camp, waiting in neat rows to be moved out, their colors a dark mahogany red that seemed much too dark and dreary compared to the 501st blue.

“228th.” Wolffe scoffed, shaking his head. “Bunch of stubborn _shabuirs,_ all of ‘em. Not very friendly, either.”

“It’s not _their_ fault.” Rex muttered, and Wolffe glanced over at him sharply.

“Stay away from them. From them _and_ her, you hear me? Don’t even think about it.”

“That’s impossible, we’re going to be together until this is finished. She’s a _jetii,_ more importantly, a General.” Rex rolled his eyes. “It’s fine, Wolffe. She has her own battalion to _kriff_ with now.” Which sounded cruel and heartless, but it was true. And, judging by the trooper with the eerie, ominous markings- _which looked too much like blood for Rex’s tastes-_ who stood dutifully in front of the rest, she had a new Captain.

_I’m fine, she has someone else._

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” Wolffe narrowed his eyes at him, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You’re going to interfere sooner or later, I _know you,_ and I’m telling you right now, don’t. You’ll only make things worse.”

“I know that, and I won’t.”

Wolffe gave him a doubtful look. “See that you don’t. I really don’t want Cody kicking my _shebs_ for letting you _kriff_ yourself over.”

“I can take care of myself.” Rex snapped, indignant, and Wolffe smirked, reaching over to pinch at his cheek mockingly.

“Of course, _vod’ika,_ and everyone believes you.”

 _“This_ is why Bly ignores your calls.”

* * *

The tension was, to put it lightly, suffocating. And it had only started when their clones had stepped into the tent.

Rex was more distant than usual, his thoughts and emotions carefully guarded, something Anakin wondered how he knew to do. Plo’s Commander- _Wolffe? He guessed it was Wolffe, especially with the animal painted onto his pauldron-_ was very much the same, if not for the way he was practically pressed against Rex’s side as if daring anyone to come closer, and the anger and disgust that emanated from the Commander in waves.

And then there was Master Pralua’s Captain. He refused to take his helmet off, even when Rex and Wolffe had, and he looked increasingly uncomfortable the longer the briefing went on, his emotions so guarded that he seemed... _dead,_ almost. Blank, like a droid.

“-ywalker?”

Anakin blinked, a little embarrassed, and he ignored Plo’s subtle raised brow. “Apologies, Masters. I was... lost in thought.”

Pralua hummed, flashing a charming smile before smoothing out her robes. Rex shifted, a jerky movement, and Anakin’s eyes immediately swung to him. “It’s quite alright, young Skywalker, I imagine you’re exhausted, running to and fro across the galaxy.”

“I’m fine, Master Pralua, but please, continue.” He still eyed Rex carefully, but stopped when Wolffe glared at him. Feeling thoroughly scolded and more than uneducated for the upcoming battle, he tuned in to what Pralua was saying.

“-go here, while your battalions attack from the flanks, here and here. If executed correctly, it will be a decisive victory.”

Plo was frowning, or the closest thing he could get to a frown, and Anakin felt his displeasure in the Force. “Are you sure that is wise? Your battalion will suffer great casualties. Perhaps one of our battalions should go to the front instead, seeing as they are larger and more experienced.”

Pralua waved a hand, a dismissal, and her Captain twitched at the motion. “They have participated in numerous campaigns, they will be fine, I assure you. My Captain is more than capable of leading a full frontal assault.”

Rex looked like he was going to be momentarily sick before his expression cleared. Anakin narrowed his eyes.

_Somethings not right here._

The moment the briefing ended, Rex turned and walked out, Wolffe following shortly behind, and Anakin watched them go with barely concealed confusion.

“Odd, aren’t they?”

Anakin glanced over at Pralua, who was currently staring at her own Captain, and the sinking feeling in his gut only worsened.

“Merely human.” Plo responded coolly, before sweeping from the tent himself, and a look of annoyance crossed Pralua’s face. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

“You’re dismissed.” Pralua said curtly, and her Captain nodded and exited, leaving the two of them alone in a tense silence.

“I’ll see you on the front, Master.” Anakin inclined his head, ducking out of the tent before the Jedi Master could say anything else.

Plo, it seemed, was waiting on him, and fell into step beside him. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Anakin snorted, glad that Obi-Wan wasn’t there to scold him for the action. “The Force was practically screaming at me, but it wasn’t focused. I didn’t know what it was saying.”

Plo hummed, staring out at the endless rows of oddly silent 228th troopers. “I’m certain we’ll find out soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> way shorter than i intended, but i needed y’alls opinion before i continued any further! alright, on the subject of couples, i’m actually having a lot of trouble deciding. so, the options are to keep it as it is right now, which is on the track of Wolffe/Comet (that was unplanned, by the way. just the result of me at 3 am and i actually love them together??) and Fives/Echo (one of my favs, probably the one i’ll stick with). BUT. there’s also Fives/Reka (kinda uncertain about this one? reka is just a lil too baby for an older vod if i do say so myself) and Wolffe/Echo (listen i read a story where they were a couple and now i’m just a lil weak for them, don’t judge me), so the final decision is yours! be sure to let me know what sounds good to you! 
> 
> also kind of sort of made my own clone battalion that will be completely OC. oops. no kix/jesse this chapter, my bad, but they’re the cutest so i’ll have to put a little shot of them next chapter for sure. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and i hope you guys are staying safe and in good health! love y’all!


	13. ashes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _you were forged in fire_   
>  _and you rose from the ashes,_   
>  _murder and mercy rolled into one_

He can barely feel his feet.

It doesn’t matter that they’d marched all day to catch up with the 104th and 501st, it doesn’t matter that his men are exhausted, and it doesn’t matter that his throat is dry and scratchy. She won’t care, he knows, because they’ve been through this before, so he keeps his mouth shut and his eyes forward, forces his legs to _lift, move, step, repeat._

Ghost was as silent as his namesake, marching dutifully beside him, but he now had a noticeable limp- _had developed it a few clicks back, actually, but they’d known better than to tell the Jedi, and Ghost had stubbornly kept up, his fear of being left behind outweighing his pain-_ and, now that Tal cared to listen, he was whining, low and mournful, a deep, throaty sound.

One of his men tripped, righted themselves quickly enough, and almost as if on cue, General Skywalker announced that they would be resting. The other two battalions immediately started getting out packs, rummaging around and talking amongst themselves, but his men hesitated, looked to him, a silent question. He nodded, once, and they finally eased down, some of them all but collapsing onto the grassy canopy below them.

Ghost didn’t even seem to be able to move, he just stood there, his right leg held up slightly as he tottered on his left, and Tal put his arm around his shoulders and half dragged half carried him over to a boulder. Once sitting down, Ghost relaxed slightly, but tensed when Tal touched his thigh plate and shin guard.

“How bad?”

Ghost hissed as he worked, and by the time Tal had removed his leg of armor, he was panting. “Don’t know. Didn’t- _ah_ , didn’t think it was too bad. Banged it up a little in the landing.”

Tal winced in sympathy, because- _yeah,_ they hadn’t exactly had a smooth landing, and he’d wondered why Ghost had clutched his leg. Now he wished he’d asked, because after peeling the blacks up, Ghost’s knee was almost entirely black with bruising.

“Kriffing hells, _vod.”_ He snapped, tugging off his bucket to get a better look. Ghost made a small noise, almost indistinguishable with the helmet, and, as an afterthought, Tal reached up and removed it for him.

Ghost’s eyes were shut tight, his face covered in a sheen of sweat, and Tal cursed again, probing gently at the blackened skin but stopping when Ghost whimpered.

“Th-that bad, huh?”

Tal stared at the wound, biting his lip and glancing over his shoulder. Some of the men were watching them, their faces unreadable, but the pity in their eyes was unmistakable.

An injured clone was as good as dead. They all knew it, and, judging by the way Ghost was looking at him now, he knew it too.

“Can I help?”

Tal tensed, turning to face the _vod_ at his back and finding a 501st medic staring back at him, helmet-less and innocent looking enough. “It’s his knee.” He said simply, moving out of the way, a silent invitation, and the medic took it, crouching with hands hovered over the wound. The medic glanced up at Ghost.

“Is it okay if I touch it?”

Looking like he wanted anything _but_ that, Ghost nodded, biting his lip and letting his head thunk back as he tried to relax. The medic was much more efficient than Tal had been, and, after some probing and squinting, the medic stood.

“I’ll need my ‘pack. Don’t move him.”

Tal nodded, watching the medic jog back to his battalion, and winced when more than one blue clad trooper turned to stare in their direction.

The medic was back in record time, setting his pack down before rummaging through it and producing bacta and a roll of gauze. “What’s your name, trooper?”

Ghost looked like he was going to be sick. “Ghost.”

“Okay, Ghost, you’re kneecap is partially dislocated. How you’ve walked this far is beyond me. I’m going to have to pop it into place, and then it wrap it for you, got it?” At Ghost’s nod, he carefully brought the roll of gauze to Ghost’s mouth. “You’ll need to bite on this.”

Ghost did so without preamble, and Tal took the opportunity to glance around, satisfied when there was no sign of their General. The medic gently placed his hands on either side of Ghost’s knee, his tone apologetic. “This is really going to hurt.”

Ghost sucked in a shaky breath through his nose, nodding sharply, and Tal looked away right before he heard the crunch. It was quick, but far from painless, and Ghost’s back arched, a choked moan coming from behind the gauze. The medic gave him a moment to adjust before reaching up and pulling the gauze from his mouth.

“Sorry, had to be done.” Then, gathering a generous amount of bacta, he smeared it over the bruised skin, shushing Ghost shortly when he squirmed in discomfort. “I’m Kix.” The medic offered, starting the tedious process of wrapping the knee, careful not to make it too tight. The medic glanced up at Tal. “And you are?”

“Tal.”

“It’s an honor to serve with you, Captain Tal.” Kix hummed, then finished with the gauze. Ghost had an arm slung across his eyes, but he peered down at Kix once he was done.

“Thanks.”

Kix smiled. “No problem. Next time you get a knee injury, try to tell your medic right away. Leg injuries aren’t something to mess around with.” Tal and Ghost shared a glance. Kix frowned. “What?”

“Bones was killed on the mission before this,” Ghost said, and Tal blinked at him in surprise. Ghost almost never talked, at least not to outsiders, and Tal had expected all the taking to fall to _him_. “We didn’t have time to file for another. We were shipped here.”

Kix looked calm, but his voice had a strange lilt to it, almost as if he was angry, and Tal studied him curiously. “You were shipped straight to us? Without rest?”

Ghost nodded, and, apparently done with conversation for the time being, closed his eyes again.

The medic looked around at Tal’s men, a frown on his face. “No wonder they’re all so lethargic.”

Tal stiffened. “They’ll be fully operational by the time we’re needed. They can fight.”

Kix glanced over at him, disapproval in his gaze, and Tal resisted the urge to shrink. “They’re not droids, Captain. They’re men, and they need rest. I’ll go get the Ge-“

“No!” Tal snapped, lunging forward to block Kix’s path, and the medic blinked at him, surprise and shock on his face. “I mean... _no._ You can’t tell the Generals.”

Kix’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re all beyond exhausted, showing mild to intense signs of stress and fatigue, and one of your men is, for now, crippled.” The medic raised an eyebrow challengingly. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“You don’t understand.” Tal was gritting his teeth so hard he feared they would break, and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “She _doesn’t care._ Especially if it’s us. Trust me when I say that it will only bring more harm than good.”

 _It will only bring more harm to_ **_me._**

Kix pinched the bridge of his nose, looking very close to swearing before he straightened and slung his ‘pack over his shoulder. “He can’t walk on his own,” He waved a hand towards Ghost.

“I’ll handle that. Thank you for your help, but these are my men, and I know their limits.”

_We’re past our limit._

Kix stared hard at him for a moment. “Alright, fine.” He glanced around at the 228th scattered around them. “Come get me if _any of them_ need a medic. Got it?” Tal nodded, and the medic turned to leave but then suddenly turned back. “Oh, Captain?”

Tal cocked his head, a silent encouragement to continue, and Kix did.

“Your eye... how did that happen?”

As if on cue his eye twitched, the bruised and swollen skin aching dully at the action, and he looked away from the medic’s burning gaze. “Accident.”

Kix hummed, the sarcasm in the sound unmistakable, and Tal forced himself to remain impassive.

He only let himself breathe when the medic finally walked away. Ghost was struggling to sit up, grimacing when his leg made contact with the ground.

“What’re we goin’ to do?”

_I don’t know._

“No one can support my weight _and_ their kit.” Tal remained silent, thinking, and Ghost swallowed. “Just leave m-“

“Stop it.” Tal snapped, making his way over to Ghost’s side and shoving his helmet on for him before doing the same for himself. “I’ll help you, we’ll be fine. I’m not leaving you.”

_You’re my best friend._

Ghost made to laugh, but it turned into a choked noise when Tal pulled him to his feet. “She’ll know.”

“I know.”

Tal ignored the looks thrown their way as he wrapped Ghost’s arm around his shoulders, holding him securely to his side and keeping him upright.

“I’ve got you.”

His only response was a hasty squeeze to his arm before their march began again.

* * *

“You are _my_ Commander and are therefore _my_ responsibility. The answer is no.”

Cody would normally leave it at that, would normally snap a sharp salute and say “yes sir”, but he’s frustrated to the point that he can feel the anger rising within him, and he needs to _release it._ So he crosses his arms over his chest, briefly enjoying the flash of warning that crosses Obi-Wan’s face before he stares him dead in the eye and stands his ground. “With all due respect, sir, it’s my decision. And I’ve accepted.”

He should’ve known that a simple reconnaissance mission- one that _he_ had been asked to lead- would cause a fuss with his Jedi.

_He’s too protective._

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed as he glared hard at Cody, and the Commander forced himself to meet his gaze head-on. “That’s an _order,_ Cody.”

Cody let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair and resisting the urge to tug at it. “General, I can take care of myself.”

Obi-Wan laughed, his tone dry. “Oh really, Commander? Because last time I checked, _I_ was saving _you_ while you were lured away by an assassin hired by a _Sith lord,_ only to be drugged and left for dead.” His Jedi gave him a look. “So no, I don’t believe you _can.”_

Cody tried very hard to remain impassive, but his eye twitched, a stab of hurt working it’s way deep within him, and Obi-Wan’s eyes softened marginally. There was a small, tense bout of silence where Cody worked on controlling his temper.

“Cody-“

“No, sir. It’s fine.” He wanted to scream, wanted to punch something- _not Obi-Wan, never Obi-Wan-_ and the anger within him was a dark, consuming thing.

Obi-Wan’s lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. “Come now, Cody. Stop acting like a child.”

“Stop acting like a _di’kut.”_ Cody snarled back, taking a threatening step forward, and Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. _“I’m_ acting like a child?”

“I didn’t mean it like-“

“I have _never_ acted like a child.” Cody snapped, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the brief flash of pity in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Ever. I’m twelve years old and I’ve never-“ He broke off, tasted bile in his mouth, the acrid taste of copper from biting his tongue, and he clenched his fists. “All my training, all my waking hours, are and were spent bettering myself for _you,_ for the Jedi.” Obi-Wan was silent, staring at him with an almost unreadable expression, and Cody wanted to see him _react,_ wanted to see the _Perfect Jedi_ facade fall until a man, a human with human flaws, stood before him. “I can kill a man with my bare hands, General, did you know that? I know what makes a man scream, what makes a man give up every secret he has, and then some, what makes a man beg and cry. I am not some- some _weak_ and defective Commander that can’t defend himself! I had thought _you_ of all people would-“

“Cody-“

“-understand that! I make _one_ mistake and I’m suddenly incapable of performing what I was _created_ to do?” He’s too far gone to stop now, and every insecurity, every secret fear he’s ever harbored is suddenly spewing from his lips involuntarily. “I’m a walking _weapon_ , sir, I can’t _not_ defend myself-“

“ _Cody,”_ There was a warning in his Jedi’s tone, his eyes intense and blue on Cody, and he ignored it with a scoff.

“Why do you even _care?”_ Cody’s voice was high, streaked with accusation, and he paused for a moment, satisfied when Obi-Wan flinched. “This isn’t about me being your Commander.” He started forward, and Obi-Wan took an aborted step back before catching himself and holding his ground, his eyes conflicted, as if trying to decide whether to deny the accusation or affirm it. “No, this is something else entirely. I think that you just can’t admit that you l-“

“Cody.” Obi-Wan snapped, his voice firm, _authoritative_ , and suddenly, Cody froze. “I am your superior officer, and I don’t know what caused this outburst, but it stops. Now.”

His throat dry, Cody swallowed, suddenly unsure of himself, and he took a small step back, trying to fight the guilt that started to surface.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

“I-I’m sorry, sir.” Cody croaked, avoiding the man’s gaze and looking anywhere but him. He should’ve known better, should’ve known better than to snap.

_Obi-Wan is not a brother._

He forgot that, sometimes, between being _karking_ _held by the man_ and being called _dear one_ and _my Cody,_ between the nights they’d spent curled together on some god-forsaken planet waiting for death. No, Obi-Wan is his Jedi, his General, a superior officer. There should be nothing between them but a mutual respect.

Cody tenses when he feels a brush of someone’s mind against his own, searching, still warm, but decidedly less friendly, clinical, almost, and his blood went cold. “Don’t.” He pleaded, because it wasn’t _fair,_ wasn’t fair that Obi-Wan could access everything of Cody’s- everything Cody _was,_ and Cody could never do the same to him. He doesn’t even attempt to keep the fear from his voice, and Obi-Wan balked, quickly withdrawing and looking momentarily horrified with himself. The expression shifts to confusion, and Cody panics, quickly shoving down the terror and reluctant acceptance that had momentarily blinded him so that he’s nothing but a clean slate, only his agitated state shining in the Force. He’d been trained for this. He just never thought he’d have to use it, least of all on _his_ Jedi.

“I would never hurt you, Cody.” Obi-Wan said softly, his voice pained, drawn, and Cody ignored it.

_He just tried to pry into your head and dig around in your thoughts. Don’t._

“Am I dismissed, sir?” He asks, his chest starting to ache with the effort of controlling his racing heart.

“No, no you’re not.” Obi-Wan crossed his arms, and Cody glanced at him warily, confused.

“I need to get back to the m-“

“Do you honestly believe that I would hurt you?”

Cody hesitated, studying the tips of his boots with unseeing eyes. “Of course not, sir.”

“Look at me.”

Cody did.

Obi-Wan asked again, more slowly. “Do you believe that I would hurt you?”

It’s harder, this time. “No.”

Obi-Wan nodded, but the pained look never left his face. “I’m sorry for intruding on your thoughts, dear one, I never meant to take advantage of you.”

_That’s not fair. He doesn’t get to call me that._

“You didn’t.” Cody lies.

“I did.” Obi-Wan said quietly, and Cody remained silent. “I _know_ you are capable, Cody. You have saved my life far too many times for me to forget that, but I’m not sending you on a mission that, in my opinion, can be accomplished just fine without you. I’m not risking you.”

Cody clenched his jaw. “Why d-“

“Cody,” Obi-Wan sounded tired, so tired that it made Cody pause. “You have been my Commander for almost the entire duration of this war. We’re friends, are we not?”

Something twisted in Cody’s gut.

Did a friend think about another almost constantly? Was a friend aware of every touch, every fleeting glance? Did a friend want to hold the other close and never let go? To mark them with their teeth so everyone knows they’re theirs? To pin them and kiss them senseless?

_He obviously doesn’t. Let it go._

Cody smiled, even if it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Friends, sir.”

He could have swore he saw Obi-Wan grimace.

“Alright. You’re dismissed, Cody.”

He walked out feeling numb and cold, like somehow he’d been sucked into the vast expanse of space, left to drift alone, and he shoves his bucket on before anyone can see the wetness of his eyes.

He’s not supposed to want anything or anyone, not supposed to have desires and wishes and _dreams._

Cody does anyway.

* * *

“Signal the men. We’re done for the day.”

Rex nodded, turning to-

He yelped, shying away from Anakin and flushing a deep red. His Jedi looked entirely too smug as he laughed. “Sorry, Rex. Couldn’t help myself.”

Rex rubbed the small space of blacks- _right between his thigh and his karking shebs, really Skywalker?-_ that had been pinched with an offended frown. “That hurt.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” Anakin replied breezily, before making his way towards the other Generals, suddenly all business once again.

Huffing, Rex stalked over to Wolffe. “We’re done for the day, set up camp. And please,” He gave his _vod_ a pointed look. “Keep your boys under control. I really don’t want anyone bitten this time.”

Wolffe rolled his eyes. “That was _one time._ And it was _Boost and Sinker,_ you know they don’t listen to anyone.”

“They listen to _you.”_

“They respect me. Big difference.”

Rex groaned. “Just keep them on a leash, please.”

Wolffe grinned and offered a mock salute. “No promises, Captain.”

Rex shoved him away, only turning his attention elsewhere when Wolffe started barking orders out to his battalion. He hesitated as he glanced over at the 228th, still as death and _freakishly_ behaved. Not a single _vod_ out of line.

_Toy soldiers._

He walks towards their ranks slowly, making sure they see him- _and they do, their helmets tilting in the way that says they’re watching-_ before suddenly, their Captain steps before him, keeping himself firmly between Rex and the 228th. The message is clear, and Rex takes a respectful step back. “We’re setting up camp.” He explains, and the Captain nods, signing a rapid flurry of hand motions to a trooper to their left, and like clockwork, the troopers start to unpack.

All except one, who eases himself to the ground, favoring his leg and clutching at it desperately. The Captain followed Rex’s gaze and stiffened before sidestepping, blocking Rex’s view.

“I’m Rex.” Rex offers after an awkward silence, but the Captain remains just as stiff and tense as before.

“Tal.” Comes the toneless response, and Rex hesitates for a moment, putting two and two together, and decides that the name is fitting- _blood, just like his armor-_ but is shaken abruptly from his thoughts when the trooper behind Tal suddenly cries out in pain. Tal straightens immediately, making his way over to the trooper and grabbing the _vod’s_ shoulder, forcing him back until he’s laid out on the ground, murmuring lowly all the while. The display of vulnerability makes Rex blink, and apparently Tal catches himself too, because his bucket swivels to pin Rex with an accusing stare. “I have to take care of my men, Captain Rex.”

“Of course, Tal.” He leaves the title out purposefully, putting special emphasis on the Captain’s name, and Tal’s gaze burns into him a moment longer before his attention is once again on the wounded _vod._

Judging by the way one of the troopers- a young one, by the looks of it, his rigid form practically screaming _beat it-_ was staring at him, he was not welcome, and he nodded politely before going back to his own battalion.

The change in mood was welcome, and he couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed when Fives tackled Echo to the ground- _in turn causing Echo to shriek, which he would later deny vehemently-_ and the two started rolling around like frenzied loth-cats. Because anything was better than watching the emotionless troopers he’d left behind.

* * *

Anakin Skywalker is a horrible Jedi.

He realizes that now, staring at his Captain from across the tent, watching him smile, the way his eyes practically _shine_ from the artificial light of the holo, the way he leans against a crate, all strong arms and lean body, and he knows he should _stop,_ they’re in the middle of a briefing, but he’s completely, helplessly in love.

And then Rex looks up, catches him staring and cocks his head, that small smile still on his face, and Anakin waves him off with a smile of his own, because how could he tell Rex what he’s feeling? What he means to him?

_I’ll scare him away._

Rex nods in understanding and averts his gaze again, goes back to staring down at the layout of the Separatist’s position displayed before him, and Anakin has to swallow hard and clamp a lid on his emotions quickly. There are other Jedi, ones that will pick up on his _contentment_ and _love_ and _want_ that’s probably oozing into the Force around him, and he tries to think of something else, _anything,_ sand, the sun, blaster burns, but nothing can get the image of Rex, bronze skin and trusting golden eyes shining up at him, squirming _under him,_ out of his head, so he turns on his heel and exits the tent as quickly as possible.

He takes a deep breath, takes another, and only calms when his overwhelming urge to grab Rex and _take him away_ dies down. Pacing for a moment, he forces himself to focus, to breathe in and out. He’s just glad it’s only Master Koon inside. Best not to make a fool of himself in front of _two_ Masters.

Then, just as jerkily, he re-enters the tent, head held high and gait confident.

“Skywalker,” Master Koon murmurs, inclining his head just slightly, but the worry in his tone unmistakable. “Is everything alright?”

Anakin’s eyes flickered to Rex, the Captain watching him carefully, a small frown on his face, and he smirks. “Of course, Master. Just needed a quick breather. Forgive me for the interruption.”

Then, carefully, and knowing perfectly well that Plo could catch him, he sends a particularly _vivid_ image of exactly what he’s thinking directly to Rex. He knows it’s received when Rex blushes hard, coughing lightly, and Plo glances up at him, brows furrowed. “Captain, are _you_ alright?”

“Y-yes sir, sorry sir.”

Anakin tosses him a little grin, smug and content when Rex glares at him, his face still flaming.

_Just wait until tonight._

He presses the thought innocently enough into Rex’s head, and Rex jerks, glancing over at him with a barely concealed warning, feigning disgust, and Anakin almost chokes on his laughter.

He doesn’t actually _listen_ to the briefing until Master Koon says “that will be all”, and then he’s following Rex out before grabbing his arm and leading him to the back, feeling vaguely with the Force to see if anyone was close before cornering him against a stack of crates. Rex makes an adorable little _oof_ when his back connects with them, and he stares up at Anakin with wide eyes. “So,” Anakin drawls, his hands on either side of Rex’s head, and the Captain eyes their position warily. “Care to tell me what was said in that briefing? Because I didn’t listen to _any of it.”_

Rex scowls at him, his eyes narrowed, and he opens his mouth to reply but quickly snaps it shut when Anakin eases one of his thighs between Rex’s, forcing himself to go slow, being as deliberate as possible so Rex _knows_ what he’s doing. Anakin grins, pressing _ever so lightly_ against his Captain’s armor in _just the right way_ and Rex groans, letting his head thump back to hit the crate behind him, his throat working from the force of his swallow, and Anakin has to bite his tongue to stop himself from marking it. _Again._

As satisfying as the sight is, Anakin closes his eyes with a short little exhale, letting his own forehead fall forward to bump against Rex’s throat at the overwhelming flood of emotions he can feel radiating off of his Captain in waves. “You’re driving me crazy.” Anakin groans, nudging his thigh with just the slightest bit more force, and Rex arches, bucking against him.

 _“Di’kut,”_ he rasps, and Anakin grins, pleased when he feels the aborted grind of Rex’s hips, almost imperceptible if not for the armor digging into his thigh at the action.

“That’s not very ni-“

“As disgustingly fascinating as this is to watch, I’m goin’ to have to call it.”

Anakin laughed at the mortified look on Rex’s face, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his cheek before letting him go.

Wolffe’s arms were crossed, a completely unimpressed look on his face. “Y’know, when I told you to tell me about that little mark later, I didn’t mean a demonstration.”

“Please just forget you saw any of that.” Rex groaned, his eyes still a little hazy, pupils blown and steps uneven as he brushing by Anakin to grab his brother and haul him away.

Wolffe rolled his eyes but flashed Anakin a smirk before they disappeared around the corner.

Anakin exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair, more frustrated and desperate than ever. He’s not particularly worried, though. A certain Captain is bunking with _him_ tonight, he’d make sure of it.

* * *

“You’re all disgustingly romantic.” Wolffe snapped, his scowl only deepening when Kix looked him dead in the eye before crawling onto Jesse’s lap.

“Does this make you uncomfortable, Commander?”

Wolffe made a face. “Very. I’ve seen enough from Rex and his General to last me a lifetime.”

Kix quickly sobered at that- _despite Jesse, who took the opportunity to pepper kisses on his neck-_ , glancing over sharply at Rex, who groaned and rolled his eyes. “Well maybe if you didn’t interrupt us every _karking_ time we’re alone you wouldn’t have to. Seriously, can you not take a hint?”

Echo was a little wide-eyed. “You and the General got caught doing it?”

“Please don’t call it ‘doing it’.” Fives whispered, trying not to startle a dozing Reka leaning against his legs, and was promptly ignored.

“No!” Rex snapped, exasperated, and glared at Jesse when the trooper snickered into Kix’s shoulder. “Don’t even start with me, Jesse, or do the men need to know about that time on the _Resolute?_ When I sa-“

“Nope.” Jesse said quickly, shaking his head, and Kix turned to stare at him, eyes narrowed.

“What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing.” Rex and Jesse both said sharply, and Wolffe eyed them all with disgust before downing his water in one go, looking like he wanted it to be anything _but_ water.

“Don’t worry, Kix,” Fives began casually, leaning back and smirking, the fire reflecting in his eyes only making him seem all the more mischievous. “I’m sure you’ll pry it out of him tonight.”

If looks could kill, Fives would be a dead man, and Rex ducked his head before the medic could see his own smile.

“Echo,” Kix called smugly, never breaking eye contact with Fives, smiling when panic flashed through the other’s eyes. “Would you like to know a secret Fives told me?”

Echo glanced between the two, lingering longer on Fives, and Rex leaned over to nudge at Wolffe. “They’re so oblivious, Echo’s practically _eye-kriffing_ him.”

Wolffe just grunted.

“Um, sure.” Echo said carefully, only to startle and flush when Fives shoved a hand over his mouth.

“No, he doesn’t.” Fives said meaningfully, giving Kix a look, and the medic relaxed with a satisfied, shit-eating grin, sliding from Jesse’s lap to lean against his side instead.

“Thought so.”

They all looked up when a 104th trooper, a blanket around his shoulders, stumbled over to their small fire, not even sparing any of them a glance before heading straight for Wolffe. He plopped down beside the Commander and leaned against his side immediately, the small tattoo under his right eye more prominent in the firelight, and Rex almost choked on his water when Wolffe softened, just slightly.

_What the hell?_

Everyone was quiet, even Fives, who watched Wolffe with a narrowed glare, and the Commander glared back, daring them to say anything.

Kix cleared his throat loudly, haughtily, and Wolffe’s glare shifted to him. “And who’s this?”

The trooper blinked open his eyes and glanced at Kix, sparing Wolffe from answering. “I’m Comet.”

Kix hummed sweetly, waiting until Comet’s eyes closed again before the smile dropped and he gave Wolffe a deadpan stare. _“Disgusting my ass,”_ he mouthed to the Commander, and Wolffe bared his teeth.

Rex elbowed Wolffe, careful not to jostle Comet, and smirked at him. “Sure you don’t need to go take care of that, _vod?”_

 _“Kriff_ off.” Wolffe whispered harshly, and Rex rolled his eyes. Then, begrudgingly. “But yes, I _do_ need to go take care of this.”

Rex grinned cheekily. “Goodnight, _sir.”_

Wolffe looked ready to deck him at any given moment, but Comet suddenly stood and dragged Wolffe with him, nodding respectfully to Rex as he did, and Rex nodded back, grinning when Wolffe tossed Comet a betrayer look.

When the two finally left, Fives broke, practically howling with laughter, startling Reka awake and Rex shook his head. “Leave it alone, _vod._ Wolffe’ll have your head.”

“Oh-oh my- my _gods.”_ Fives wheezed, slapping at Echo’s arm to get his attention, and the other ARC huffed in annoyance. “Did you see his face?”

Echo rolled his eyes, grabbing Reka’s arm and tugging him to his feet. The younger didn’t even protest, but watched Fives with a slightly confused look. “I’m taking him to bed before he has permanent brain damage from you _di’kuts.”_ Echo teased, kicking lightly at Fives’ thigh before leaving.

Rex realized vaguely that he’d never introduced himself to the shiny, and he scowled into his canteen.

“Did you even talk to him?” Fives was suddenly serious, eyes narrowed and gaze accusing, and Rex stayed silent. Then, softer, more understanding. “You should.”

“I know.”

* * *

 _“You look like osik, Codes.”_ Bly laughed, the holo flickering for a moment as the connection stabilized, and Cody ran a hand through his hair. _“Seriously, you should-“_

“I _kriffed_ up.” Cody blurted, his breaths quickening. “I _kriffed_ up, and I don’t know what to do, Bly, I don’t- I cant-“

 _“Alright, hey, easy, take a deep breath.”_ Bly said firmly, and Cody obliged, sucking in a ragged breath and running a hand through his hair, sagging back against the wall of the supply closet he was currently holed up in. _“Now, tell me what’s wrong.”_

“It’s O- Kenobi.” He finally decided on, wincing at how blunt it sounded. “Well, no, it’s me, actually. I just got so _angry_ and I wasn’t _thinking-“_

 _“Cody,”_ Bly’s brows were furrowed, his voice full of concern, and Cody fell silent immediately. _“Start from the beginning.”_

“We argued, he told me he was my superior officer.” Cody said wetly, dread pooling in his gut at the implications of what _that_ meant, and Bly went still. “I requested to participate in a joint mission, the one to Florrum. It wasn’t even _dangerous,_ just a simple reconnaissance. He refused.” He scoffed, ran a hand down his face and resisted the urge to groan aloud. “I’m a _kriffing_ Commander, not some-“

_“Did you ever stop to think that maybe he’s doing this **because** he has feelings for you?”_

Cody blinked. “What? No, he should let me make my own decisions, especially if it invo-“

 _“No, Cody,”_ Bly glared at him. _**“Think.** Why would a jetii stop a clone from doing their duty?”_

 _I won’t risk you,_ Obi-Wan had said, his eyes flashing, and Cody blinked again.

“Oh.” He said lamely, and Bly rolled his eyes.

_“‘lek, oh is right, you kriffing di’kut.”_

* * *

The younger ones had it worse, Tal thought a little bitterly, but he kept the thought safe within the confines of his mind.

Ash, a new recruit who had yet to acclimate to General Pralua’s... _difficult ways,_ was doing an admirable job at trying to remain still, but every so often a tremor would rack his small frame, giving him away, and Tal had to clench his fists to stop himself from reaching out and comforting him.

Instead, he focused on the General, perfectly poised and graceful, her face the epitome of serenity. Harmless.

_Looks can be deceiving._

“It has come to my attention that CT-1909 was injured in the landing.” She began coolly, staring straight at Tal and raising an eyebrow. “You carried him?”

“I just helped him walk.” Tal said quickly, but mentally backtracked when the General’s eyes flashed with amusement at his discomfort. “The 501st has a medic that checked him out. He’ll be well enough to fight within a day, given the bacta provided.”

The General’s gaze shifted to Ash, predatory, and the younger stiffened beside him. She changed topics easily enough. “What’s your name, trooper?” She asked sweetly, and Ash shifted just the slightest bit back in response.

“Ash, sir.”

General Pralua smiled again, charming, _seducing,_ and Ash relaxed reflexively. “Do you know what your name means, Ash?” She asked softly, and she glanced at Tal only briefly, a gleam in her eyes, and he felt _sick._ At Ash’s negative, she continued. “Something destroyed, _ruined.”_ She took a step forward, the kindness in her gaze never wavering, but when Tal tensed, Ash followed his example, and he looked over at the Captain uncertainly. “A reminder of devastation,” Another step forward, her voice still deceptively soft, and Tal remained firmly planted. Ash, however, swayed with the indecision of running. “Sorrow,” She was inexplicably _good_ at toying with them, and realization was slowly dawning on Ash, who shifted closer to Tal. “Terror.”

Her gaze flickered over to Tal. “It’s remarkable, isn’t it? How names just seem _fitting._ ” When Tal remained silent, she closed the distance between them, her voice hardening slightly as she reached up to touch his helmet in a mock caress. “Isn’t it, Captain?”

“Yes sir.” He acquiesced, and the General then glanced at Ash, a slow, lazy smile curling across her lips, and Tal swallowed hard. “Don’t, sir. Please.”

She laughed, then, an unpleasant sound, and Ash flinched. She leaned forward, a whisper for only Tal to hear. “I don’t have to lay a _hand_ on him to ruin him, _Tal._ But you already know that, don’t you?”

“He’s just a kid.” He found himself spitting out, and Pralua stepped back, humor in her eyes.

“You were too.”

She suddenly stiffened, her gaze darting to the flap of her tent, right before General Skywalker ducked inside. “Sorry to interrupt, Master Pralua, but Plo wants to brief you on your battalions involvement in the coming battle.”

The General was once again calm and poised, nodding elegantly. “Of course, Skywalker. I’ll be there shortly.”

Skywalker glanced over at Tal and Ash, expression unreadable before he was gone once again.

“You’re both dismissed.” She said lightly, and Ash practically tripped on his way out of the tent, and when Tal moved to follow, Pralua called after him. “And Captain?”

He turned slowly, resisting the urge to snarl.

“Do not test me again. Or we’ll _both_ find out if your little friend lives up to his name.”

It wasn’t necessarily the threat that made his skin crawl, it was more the belief that she would follow through with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> S7 E9 really said codywan rights huh?
> 
> i’m sorry this took a while, but i’ve been super duper busy! however, it’s the longest chapter at 5,970 words. i was going to push for 6,000 but i couldn’t think of anything else to write lmao. forgive any mistakes or if any scenes seem rushed or choppy (i wrote this AND an essay at three a.m. so don’t be too hard on me lol). next chapter should be up soon if all goes well!
> 
> Tal means _blood_ in Mando’a, which seemed fitting with the color of their armor. also ash is another pure shiny character i decided to randomly throw in here for some good feels and shit, so buckle up kiddies lmao. also? reka/ash? the wheels in my caffeine deprived mind are turning.
> 
> not much rex and pralua, but not to worry, next chapter OR the chapter after will be angst and pain, because i’m THAT bitch. 
> 
> anyways, thank you so much for reading lovelies! i hope you’re all staying safe and healthy and enjoying life! you guys are the best! <3


	14. bones.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _tear it from my veins til I bleed silver and gold_

_It’s not fair. It’s not. Because they **know** that they can’t fight, they know that they’re bred to obey them, that they **can’t. Fight. Back,** and it’s not fairnotfairnotfairnotfair-_

_Rex whines, high and mournful in the back of his throat._

_His thoughts are nothing and everything, his breaths panicked and hiccuping, and he can’t- cant **breathe** past the all consuming weight of her stare, of her **control.**_

_“CT-7567, on your knees.”_

_He hesitates, a small, defiant part of him still fighting, and Pralua’s voice shifts into something more biting._

_“CT-7567, comply.”_

_And **fuck,** he does. He’s falling to his knees before he can stop himself, his throat too tight and his vision hazy. It hurts, it hurts so much, not just physically, it hurts his **soul,** his pride, being reduced to a simple object meant to follow orders, and he closes his eyes and lets out a small, pained noise._

_(He can’t breathe, please.)_

_“Good,” The Jedi purrs, and he’s- he needs air, he needs it and he can’t **get it** and it’s so dark and cold and-_

_“CT-7567, comply.” **Shit** , he thought he had, and now he’s slipping, slippingslippingslipping and he can’t **breathe** , can’t **think** , he needs to- needs to find a way to stop this, he’s **trained** for this, but she’s in his **mind** and she sees him, all of him, and it’s- “Now, clone.”_

_He’s scared, he realizes, and he jerks when he hears her move, eyes wide and hands trembling, and he- he wants- he doesn’t know what he wants, he just knows he wants someone, anyone, to stop this, to notice **pleasepleaseplease-**_

_“Eyes on me.”_

_He obeys, his eyes immediately flickering to hers, and the triumph and glee in them makes him sick, but he finds himself unable to look away. She places a hand on his hair, petting, mocking, and he tenses under it._

_The slap was unexpected, and Rex blinks around the sting, his head still thrown to the side from the force of it, and he chokes, let’s out an involuntary noise, and Pralua grabs his chin, forces him to meet her gaze._

_Her eyes are burning._

_(He’s so, so scared.)_

_“Never disrespect me like that again. Understand?”_

_“Yes, sir.” He manages to get out, and she stares down at him for a moment, contemplative, before smiling. There are tears in his eyes, his body shuddering with the need to obey and the instinct to flee, and he can feel her, pressing against him, every crevice in his mind, touching, tainting, **stopstopstop-**_

_(She doesn’t stop. She never does.)_

_“Good.” She coos, and a breathless hiccup leaves him in response. She only smiles all the more. “I’ll make a Captain of you yet.”_

Rex chokes on a gasp, eyes flying open as he leans over the bedroll, coughing a deep, painful cough into the gritty ground beneath him.

“Rex? You okay?”

He’s shaking, and he _shouldn’t be,_ he’s _fine,_ and he clenches his jaw, bites down a whine and finally rolls onto his back, panting up at the tent canvas above him. “I’m fine.”

He can feel Anakin’s frown in the dark, and jumps when there’s a touch at his arm. “No you’re not.” Then, softer, “What’s wrong? Nightmare?”

“ _‘lek,_ ” He says, and he supposes it’s not a lie, because Pralua _is_ his nightmare, is the only being in the galaxy that can strike so much fear into him.

Anakin hums, still careful as he presses just the _slightest_ bit closer, a small question wormed ever so gently into Rex’s mind, and he nods, tries to force his throat to _relax_ and ease up on the painful pressure. It’s always better, somehow, when his Jedi holds him, when he’s _warm_ and _safe_ and Anakin is _right there,_ a barrier between him and the galaxy. It’s a hazy feeling, and he slowly, jerkily, relaxes into it.

His hands still tremble, small rattles that are more embarrassing than threatening, and Rex tucks them against his side. He wonders if his Jedi knows how much he projects, wonders if he knows the soft feelings of _warmsafecontentpossessivelove_ that he leaks when they’re like this, but doesn’t bring it up, instead tucks his face into Anakin’s neck and holds it there, breathing in and out, feels his muscles _finally_ ease up until he goes limp. “There,” Anakin murmurs sleepily, turning just enough to brush a kiss to his temple, small and reverent, and it makes Rex squirm, just a little, and his Jedi’s grip tightens. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” He says to Anakin’s neck, resists the urge to lean forward and _mark it_ and instead closes his eyes, let’s his Jedi’s emotions wash over him in a comforting wave. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

Anakin’s frowning again, his displeasure radiating all around him, and he lets out a small puff of air. “You were terrified, and it was a nightmare. You don’t have to apologize for something that’s not your fault.”

_You don’t have to apologize for something that’s not your fault._

Rex debates telling him, but all he can imagine is Anakin, livid and _angry,_ confronting Pralua and endangering the mission, and he immediately shuts the thought down. So instead, he shuffles closer, let’s out a slow, even breath, and let’s sleep claim him again.

* * *

_“Take take take!”_

_“Man down!”_

_“This is CT-2148, anyone receiving, over?”_

_“Alpha squad is down, repeat, Alpha squad is down.”_

_“RPG, RPG, watch your-“_

_“Torrent, advance!”_

_“Does anyone have eyes on the General?”_

_“This is CT-5726, I’ve lost contact with friendlies, repeat, lost contact with friendlies. Standing by.”_

_“This is CT-2847 of Omega, does anybody copy? Repeat, does anybody copy?”_

Fives could normally block out the chatter, or at least tune in to Echo’s private comm frequency, listen to his panting breaths and muttered curses and know he was _alive,_ but Echo had gone radio silent exactly two minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago. A bad sign, a worse one still with the frantic shouting in his ear, the choruses of _“man down”_ and _“don’t let up”_ an unhelpful distraction.

“This is ARC-5555- Fives, does anyone have a visual on ARC-1409? Repeat, does anyone have a visual on ARC-1409?” The noise of battle and heavy breathing was his only response. Sweat trickled down his back. “Does anyone see Echo?” He barked angrily, swearing when a bolt singed his shoulder pauldron.

_“Negative on ARC-1409.”_

_“Negative, sir.”_

_“Down down down!”_

Fives let out a frustrated noise, firing in rapid succession and only letting up when a droid went down. The 228th were receiving the brunt of the Separatist forces, and Fives could only imagine the losses _they_ were facing, but he still couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer number of droids in front of _them._

A glance to his right gave him a clear view of Commander Wolffe, armor covered in soot and pulling an injured _vod_ to the relative safety of a nearby rocky outcropping. No Rex, as of yet, and he spat another curse before making a run to a cluster of 501st troopers hunkered in a ditch. “Why aren’t we advancing?” He yelled when he slid in behind them, but they didn’t even spare him a glance, peering into their scopes and firing shot after shot rhythmically.

Fives was about to yell again, tempted to just make a break for the Separatist facility himself, but his helmet comm suddenly crackled to life. A private channel, judging by the lack of identical voices overlapping, and he holds his breath as he waits.

_”Rex is down.”_

A bolt whizzed by his helmet, momentarily causing his HUD to flash an angry red, and Fives ducked down, knocked into a troopers leg and made the other curse, but then he was crawling out of the ditch before levering himself to his feet, sprinting to a new, more secure location.

“How bad?” His voice didn’t sound like his own, and he let his eyes roam the battlefield, swearing again when there was no sign of Echo.

_“He’s unresponsive. Rung his bell pretty hard.”_

“What about Echo?”

There was a pause, a muffled curse from Kix, and then the connection went dead. Jesse comm’d him soon after. _“Echo is MIA. He and the Captain were together when they got separated from us.”_

“Then how the hell did you find Rex?” Fives snapped, dodging to avoid the trooper that dropped in front of him.

_“He found us. Echo wasn’t with him.”_

_“Kriffing_ ask hi-“

A roar erupted from the direction of the facility, hundreds, thousands of identical voices yelling and shouting in triumph, and Fives gripped his blasters hard as troopers around him advanced. “Find him.”

_“Understood.”_

* * *

He’s exhausted, he thinks dizzily as he stares up at the canopy of trees above him. Like he could just lay here for hours, days, weeks, and it would never be enough. It’s pretty, though, the way the sunlight filters through, casting small beams of light onto the ground around him. Peaceful.

His leg has long since gone numb, twisted and broken beyond repair, and he blinks lazily. It feels... good, actually. Really good. He’s warm and comfortable and safe-

He frowns. Was Rex safe? Had he made it? He doesn’t remember much, remembers the bomb, remembers Rex yelling before his voice had been drowned out by the squeal of their doom, remembers a burning, fiery pain in his leg before he felt nothing.

He tries to move his head to look around, but it only results in a flare of pain up his arm. So that was injured, too.

_Good to know._

He needs to... call someone. That would be very... smart, smart is the word he’s looking for. Intelligent. Clever. Brilliant. Perceptive. His fingers twitch, but otherwise remain where they are, and a whine works it’s way up his throat. No one hears him anyway.

It’s actually... starting to kind of hurt now, tendrils of pain slowly creeping up his leg and along his spine, licking its way upwards and spreading, and-

He gasps, strains hard against the burn, and his muscles tremble from the exertion. Fives, he needs Fives, Fives can help, Fives is good, Fives is-

“Fives,” he chokes out, clenches his eyes shut tight as his body shakes and shakes and _shakes_. He only just realizes he hasn’t even turned on his comm, and he bites his lip hard. His arm sluggishly obeys, and he barely manages to connect it before Fives’ voice fills the air.

_“Echo! Are you okay? Where are you?”_

For a moment he lets the voice soothe him, let’s himself drift off again, and when he comes back to himself Fives is still talking, a hint more desperate.

_“-alk to me, where are you? What do you see?”_

“Trees.” Echo murmurs, his eyes heavy and fluttering as the wave of pain dies down, and he closes them. Just a little rest, then he can talk more.

_“Okay, that’s- I need more than that, Echo, I need you to focus for me, okay? Can you do that?”_

Echo blinks open his eyes, frowning. He could do that. And _Fives_ was asking. Fives can help, can makes things better-

_“Yeah, I can help, I just need you to help me out here. Just- Hey, send me your coordinates, okay?”_

“Okay,” He agrees, and glances back down at his gauntlet. He stares at it for a moment, confused. “Fives?”

_“Yeah?”_

“What- What happened?”

_“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, I just need you to help me. Please, just press the-“_

The connection went dead. He froze, heart pounding and hands trembling. “Fives?” The distant sound of battle met his ears, but it was far away, behind him, and he suddenly felt very, very alone. He kept himself still, breathing hard and trying to stop the panic that was slowly starting to rise. He pressed the comm again, frustrated tears leaking when the device gave a mournful beep, transmitting only static. “ _Kriff,_ ” He whined, sucking in a rattling breath, straining to try and hear anything other than the blood pumping in his ears.

As if to mock him, his vision wavers, shifting and swaying tauntingly, and he jolts, grasps for a hold on reality sloppily, and lets out a small cry when he fails. The darkness consumes him.

* * *

Reka almost manages to keep what little food he’d eaten down when he finds him, but after a second glance at Echo’s leg, he has to rip his bucket off and vomit.

He looks dead, armor blown to hell and helmet cracked and shattered, but then Echo twitches, mumbles something unintelligible, and Reka’ s stumbling forward to drop by his side. “Hey, Echo,” He whispers, shaking the ARC’s shoulder softly, and he groans, the sound odd from beneath the helmet.

“Fives?”

“Sorry, sir.” Reka chirps, swallowing down another wave of bile at the sickening sight of bone peaking through bloody skin before activating his comm. “Fives? I found Echo. Sending the coordinates now.”

_“I’m on my way. Is he...”_

“It’s bad.” Reka finally says, and Echo chokes, chest heaving, forcing him to end the connection to hold him down. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay, sir, it’s me. Reka.”

“Reka...” Echo slowly repeats, finally relaxing back again. “Where- where are we?”

Glancing around, Reka frowns. “We’re way off the map, sir. How did you get back here?”

“I don’t... I don’t know.” Echo’s voice doesn’t sound like his, it’s too small, soft, confused, and Reka glances around to make sure they’re in no danger before slowly starting to ease Echo’s helmet off.

“That’s okay,” He automatically soothes, wincing when he sees the crusted blood along Echo’s hairline, and the ARC looks over at him groggily, a small smile on his face.

_“Vor entye, Reka.”_

“We’re not out of this yet, sir.” He jokes weakly, and a shiver trails up Echo’s frame, visible even through the armor. “Where does it hurt?”

Echo frowned, staring up at nothing in particular, body starting to shake again. “It doesn’t hurt anywhere. I feel fine.” Then, more panicked, he glances over at Reka. “Are _you_ hurt?”

“What? No, I’m fine. You’re the one wi-“ He cuts himself off abruptly, tense and listening, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of danger. Reka glances around carefully, cautiously grabbing his blaster and taking a step forward.

There it was again, the same noise, albeit louder, and Echo stiffens below him. “Oh god,” The ARC whispers, “O-Oh god,” His breaths were fast and choppy, steadily rising with panic, and Reka tries to shush him by placing a hand on his shoulder, but then Echo is grabbing him. He’s surprisingly strong as he grips his bicep, eyes tear filled and hazy, and he looks so indescribably _sad_ that it makes his heart ache. “You have to go, kid.”

“What?” Reka whispers harshly, brows furrowing. “No, I’m not leaving you! We’ll be fi-“

“Commando droids.” Echo breathes, swallowing harshly before averting his terrified gaze. “It’s okay, it’s fine, you just need to hide, okay?” One of the ARC’s legs twitches as if to move before it falls still again, and Echo’s expression crumples at the failure. “ _Go_.”

“They’ll kill you.” Reka snaps softly, carefully trying to peer out from behind a tree, and quickly recoils when he catches sight of them. “I see five.”

Echo nods once, closes his eyes and grips Reka’s arm to the point of pain before he lets go. “If they think I’m dead, they’ll leave.” He unholsters his blaster, shoving it into Reka’s hands and then lays back. “Just- put my helmet back on.”

It’s significantly harder, and Echo lets out a small cry of pain when it finally seals shut again. Reka can’t help but flinch at the noise. “Where do I go, sir?”

“There’s a ditch, just down that slope.” Echo has to pause to catch his breath, and Reka’s worry triples. “Get to it and follow it until you’re clear. Don’t stand up and _don’t_ run, understood?” At Reka’s nod, he waved a hand. “Now go.”

“Sir, Fives is on his way, maybe we should-“

“ _Iviin’yc!_ ” Echo snapped, and Reka obeyed, staying as low as possible as he crept towards the shallow, mud filled ditch just beyond.

He winced as the mud leaked into his boots, but tries to ignore it anyway, picking his way around fallen trees and weak, noisy limbs. He doesn’t make it far before Echo _screams._

* * *

Fives hears them before he sees them, the metal _shabuirs,_ surrounding Echo’s broken form and chatting in the low, ominous staccato that always makes his nerves grate together in fury.

“I need reinforcements in sector 3B.” He mutters into his comm, tensing when a droid starts to holo someone beyond his line of sight.

_“We’re not authorized for sector 3B, stand by.”_

He opens his mouth to argue, but startles when an ear splitting scream pierces the air. He’s almost afraid to look up, afraid of what he’ll see, but he forces himself to heave up and-

One of the droids grinds its metallic foot one last time into the mess of gore that was Echo’s leg before pulling it off, kicking at the appendage and eliciting another cry of pain. Echo was saying something, voice high and desperate, and Fives has never had control of his emotions.

The first two go down quickly, both headshots that he feels he could be impressed with later, and manages to take two more with minor difficulty. The last one, though, is a stubborn thing, and it’s begrudgingly smarter than the rest, unsheathing a wicked looking vibroblade and holding it just above Echo’s heaving chest. “Surrender, clone.” Comes the emotionless command, and Fives freezes, eyeing the thing with obvious distaste.

Echo makes a noise, just enough to have the droids attention shifting, and Fives uses the distraction to throw himself at it without hesitation. They both go tumbling, grappling at blasters, blades, anything, and Fives lets out a frustrated yell when the droid manages to pin him to the ground.

A _clank_ followed by a flash of sparks has him flinching, but then the droid’s eyes flicker and go dead, it’s head rolling to the side as it goes limp. A trooper is next to Echo, breathing hard and blaster still raised, and Fives shoves the thing off of him before scrambling to his feet to join them.

He almost hadn’t recognized Reka, but now that he does, he gives him a nod as he kneels beside him. “Nice shot, kid.”

“We need an evac.” Reka said in lieu of greeting, already starting to work Echo’s helmet off, and Fives blinked at the strictly professional tone.

“Scratch troops, we need an immediate evac.” Fives relays diligently, and the trooper on the other end chimes an affirmative before cutting the call.

When he finally locks eyes with Echo, it makes the breath catch painfully in his throat, a surge of protectiveness nearly knocking him over, and he’s leaning forward to press their foreheads together in a keldabe kiss before he can stop himself. It hurts all the more when Echo closes his eyes, leaning into him with a small sound, and it has every nerve in his body on fire.

He pulls back quickly, however, when Reka clears his throat, signaling the arrival of a med-team not far away.

“I’ll find you as soon as I’m back.” Fives promises, and Echo blinks up at him slowly, in pain and _dying_ as they _speak_ , and he _still_ manages to grin, so fucking soft and gentle, and it makes something inside him howl in pain.

He doesn’t like it, the look in Echo’s eyes, the unbridled ~~love~~ trust shining in their depths, so he opens his mouth, closes it, then turns on his heel and stalks away.

* * *

“The Council has requested that we further our investigation.”

Anakin narrowed his eyes at the Jedi Master, leaning a hip against the holotable distractedly. “That doesn’t make any sense. We were here to take back the planet and establish a Republic presence.” He glances between the two Masters pointedly. “We did.”

Pralua, unsurprisingly, doesn’t look particularly pleased either. “We’ve intercepted transmissions from various parts of the galaxy, all of them encrypted, but from what we’ve cracked so far, they all talk of a project, an undertaking on Sceth. To leave now would be foolhardy.”

Master Koon made a thoughtful noise, reaching out with a clawed hand to point at the holomap. “A compelling reason to stay, but there are no more Separatist outposts, factories, or laboratories in any of the readings we’ve acquired. If they were here, the ‘pulses would have shown, would they not?”

“Yes, well technology is never very reliable, is it?” Pralua said sweetly, swiping a hand through the air and successfully clearing the holo, giving a few more impatient taps before a new image rose. A Rodian’s identification, by the looks of it, and Anakin shared a glance with Plo. “Our intelligence points to a Separatist sympathizer-“

“Hold on,” Anakin interrupted sharply, holding up his hands and gesturing to the alien incredulously. “He’s a _sympathizer?_ That’s hardly incriminating.”

Pralua gave him a look. “Perhaps you think the Council is too hasty in their judgement?”

“ _I_ have a bad feeling about this. This doesn’t make any sense, and for there to be no other Separatist activity here? Are we sure this isn’t a decoy, something to throw us off their _true_ goal?”

Master Koon nodded in agreement, and Pralua’s gaze snapped to the Kel Dor sharply. ”Something to add, Plo?”

Seemingly unbothered by the use of his name, Master Koon simply nodded again. “This is all rather abrupt, and our troops have just fought a very long, hard battle. To act so rashly will only end in further disaster.”

Pralua cut the holo with a decisive jab. “Then you may report to the Council your misgivings. Master Koon,” She have a slight bow before her eyes flickered to Anakin. “Skywalker.” She ducks out of the tent soon after, and Anakin rolls his eyes.

“A pleasure.” He drawls, and Plo shakes his head good-naturedly.

“Very professional, Master Pralua.”

“Among other things.” Anakin grumbles, but grins sheepishly when Plo gives him a look. “Sorry, Master. I’m just... tired.”

Master Koon nods, already brushing by to leave the command tent himself, a soft command to rest his parting words, and Anakin glanced around the tent one last time before following.

_First stop, med-tent._

Easier said than done, considering the rows upon rows of wounded, the cacophony of moans guiding the way, and Anakin almost steps on someone’s hand at least half a dozen times- _which he apologizes profusely for, only to get a sloppy salute or a slurred ‘General’ as forgiveness-_ before he finally makes it to where a group of medics are set up.

Kix is in front of him in an instant, looking entirely too stressed for such a short period of time, and he grabs him by the arm and starts steering him through troopers confidently. “No bright lights, no datapads, no loud noises,” He glances back at Anakin long enough to throw him a disapproving glare. “No _strenuous_ activity, and keep him hydrated. Coric’ll give you the final rundown when you leave, he’s free to go.”

He’s alone again, mouth gaping and hand outstretched as if to stop Kix from leaving, and then he glances down at the wide eyed Captain below him.

“Hi.” Rex chirps, calm and docile even with the impressive bacta patch taped to his skull, and Anakin can’t help the grin that crosses his face.

“Hi,” He says smoothly, bending down until he can crouch next to Rex, restraining his wince when he catches sight of the blown pupils. “You ready to get out of here?”

Instead of answering, Rex clumsily shoves on his helmet, lurching to his feet triumphantly, only to topple back over in a heap of plastoid and gauze.

“Shit.” Anakin hisses, hastily dropping down to crouch by the Captain’s side just as Kix seems to materialize out of nowhere, glaring.

“If you can’t take care of him I’ll find someone who _can._ ” He hisses harshly, but then his tone gentles when he turns to Rex, swiping his helmet off one-handed. “Hey, eyes on me.” The medic orders softly, reaching forward to grab Rex’s chin, but Rex freezes, breath stopping for one horrifying moment that has Anakin grabbing his arm and shaking him.

“Rex!”

Shying away from the medic, Rex instead launches himself at Anakin, diving under his arms to tuck himself against his side, pressing closer when Kix reaches forward again.

“Easy,” Kix says with a frown, making brief eye contact with Anakin before looking back to the still-hidden Captain. “Rex, can you look at me?”

A hand comes up to grip tightly at the back of his tunic, and Anakin places a cautious hand on the armored back, frowning when a tremble works its way through Rex’s frame. “Hey,” Anakin tugs at his kama, which just makes Rex burrow deeper with terrified noise. “What’s wrong?”

It’s directed at Rex, but Kix answers anyway. “Probably shock, or the head wound. Get him to a tent and get him down, these things can be dangerous.”

“Understood.”

* * *

“Are you injured?”

Jesse wouldn’t look at him, his chest rising and falling quickly- _anxiously, Kix thought critically-_ but he shook his head. “No, I’m- I’m fine.”

He still didn’t leave, though, staring at him as if he wanted to say something, and Kix twitched when a wounded cry rang from somewhere behind him. Jesse’s shoulders sagged, resigned. “Go.”

Kix didn’t think too much of it after that, he treated a blaster burn, dislocated shoulder, sedated a hallucinating Echo for transport back to the Resolute, treated _more_ blaster burns, and by the time he was done and stumbling into his assigned tent, he was almost too exhausted to notice how _quiet_ Jesse was.

He stacked his armor dutifully beside the others, trying not to wake any of the other sleeping _vode_ before slipping into his bedroll.

_Somethings wrong._

The thought comes innocently enough, but it leaves him staring up at the tent’s canvas, wide awake and alert. He glances over at Jesse’s bedroll, but his back is to the medic. Frowning, Kix worms his way out of his ‘roll and towards the other trooper.

“Jesse,” He whispers, reaching out to tap at his shoulder, waiting for the hum of acknowledgment and frowning when he received none. “Hey, are you awake?”

Silence.

 _Probably nothing_ , he reasons as he crawls back to his bedroll, laying back down and closing his eyes. It’s not the first time he’s been anxious for no reason, and he lets out a harsh sigh. Besides, he can ask Jesse in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys guys guys i’m so sorry this took so long! i actually had most of this chapter written and ready, but then i broke my leg in two places and was in the hospital for a week (very not cool) so that’s why it took so long. i actually had a genuine excuse this time though, so that’s new! 
> 
> also yes, breaking a leg is a pain in the ass so of course i had to write about my experience, aka, Echo (i’m sorry baby it was just too easy). Echo’s accident in this chapter is the equivalent of the Citadel, because honestly i’m too emotionally distraught to write about that lmao so looky there! the citadel never happened! *jazz hands* perhaps i got a little too out of hand with the fives/echo, but i’m not apologizing, there’s not enough of those two out there and i’m salty about it lmao
> 
> pralua is getting _exposed_ in the next chapter, so that’s something to look forward to! no 228th in this chapter, but mainly because they’re about to get a _lot_ of screen time next chapter.
> 
> honestly the end part of this chapter with kix and jesse wasn’t supposed to be in there at all, but i just watched the season finale and my heart is BREAKING over Jesse (hi feel free to write all the jesse, jesse/kix fluff you can because i’m broken okay thanks), so of course i had to throw them in there. angst angst and more angst folks, it’s like crack to me.
> 
> (season finale rant: okay but honestly what the fuck i cried so much?? like what even, rex telling ahsoka to just kill his brothers because they “don’t care” while crying because he’s literally having a breakdown because he’s bled and cried with them? it’s fine i didn’t need a heart anyway, filoni. and i know i already said i’m broken over jesse, but PLEASE good god i lost it when i saw his helmet. he was so baby and amazing and now he’s gone. god, time to drown in fanfiction.) 
> 
> on a more serious note, i’m super sorry if this chapter seems rushed, vague, or all over the place, i wrote most of it at 3am when i couldn’t sleep, and i’ve not been at the top of my game lately. 
> 
> anyways, thank you so much for reading lovelies, you guys are amazing! next chapter will hopefully be up soon
> 
> happy may the fourth!


	15. shadows.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _rebellion sits well on you_

He finds him in a crumpled heap on the battlefield, and he looks so _small_ , so... so _wrong_ , but the markings stained onto the armor are unmistakable. He would know, he’d helped paint them.

It’s almost ironic, how the blood has blended with the deep red of his kit, adding new, more eerie splashes of color that _shouldn’t be there._

Tal crouches, hands hovering uselessly above Ash’s motionless chest-plate as a wave of grief threatens to pull him under. The armor is cold to the touch, foreign, and, with nothing but the moon’s lonely light to guide him, he reverently touches the inadequate protection.

He runs his hands over the cracked, splintered plastoid until he can feel the comforting weight of Ash’s helmet in his hands, cradling, an apology in and of itself. The soft _clack_ as their helmeted foreheads meet is drowned out by the noise that crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. “ _Ni ceta, ni ceta, ni ceta_ ,” He chants brokenly, tightening his hold until it _hurts_ , until his fingertips ache with the pressure, but it’s nothing compared to the way his chest spasms with the guilt and failure represented beneath him.

“ _Gedet’ye_ ,” he begs, shoulders curling inwards- _in an attempt to do what, he doesn’t know-_ and hears the telltale sound of the beginnings of rain falling onto his armor. “ _Ni ceta, Rang_.”

Someone drops down beside him- Ghost- hands warm and firm as they grip his shoulders, trying to pull him away and _up_. Tal shakes him off, clenches his eyes shut tight and cradles the kid’s head one last time, tries to memorize the feel of him in his hands, before lowering it slowly, tracing a bold stripe of paint along the side of the cracked bucket with a finger before pulling away.

The rain falls harder, runs down Ash’s visor in drops that look fittingly like tears, and Tal gets to his feet, swallowing down any and all grief as he turns to face Ghost.

“ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la_.” Ghost says softly, and Tal tears his gaze away, fights against the anger that wraps around his chest and digs in.

“ _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la_.” He repeats, let’s his eyes rake over the sprawled, used body below and commits it to memory. For a moment the only sound is the soft patter of rain around them. “Why are you here?”

Returning to a battlefield was against regulations, at _least_ five of them, and he’d thought that he’d been careful, had remained undetected. Apparently not. Then again, Ghost had never been one to follow the rules, and he’d certainly never been one to let Tal break them alone. “I was coming here anyway, saw you and decided to join.”

Tal doesn’t look up. “Who?”

“Jay.” Ghost motions to a different trooper, one that Tal had purposefully avoided due to the full extent of his injuries, and the sight of insides splayed out across the corpse made bile rise in his throat for the second time.

“Was he new? I don’t remember him.”

Ghost nodded, hand twitching from where it hung by his side. “Part of Ash’s squad. Shinies.”

That explained a lot, then. Tal made a mental note to find the rest of their squad and apologize. Ghost tilted his head, switching to their helmet comms as the rain picked up to a dull roar. _“Are you okay, sir?”_

“I’m fine.” Tal scoffed, ignoring the title- _it didn’t matter when it was just the two of them. They were equals, no matter their rank-_ and gesturing to the mottle of white and red barely visible through the blanket of rain. “How can you even ask that when they’re just... laying here. Dead, forgotten.”

Ghost doesn’t move. _“I can’t do anything about them, but I can help you.”_ A meaningful pause. _“Are you hurt?”_

“Why don’t you just _karking_ say it?” Tal snaps, turning to glare at the other trooper with a dramatic flare, but Ghost remains still and calm.

_“I’m worried about you.”_

“Well you shouldn’t be. I can take care of myself.” Tal starts the trek back to camp, keeping his gaze forward and _not_ on the bodies strewn around them, bloodied and dishonored.

 _“And yet you choose not to.”_ Ghost falls into step beside him, voice that same infuriatingly calm lilt, and Tal glanced at him sharply. _“You’ve seen the way the other Jedi act, you shouldn’t just let her... get away with it. She’s not **normal** , vod. Maybe if we told someone they cou-“_

“And what, Ghost? What then?” If Ghost felt ill about being interrupted, he didn’t show it, and instead fell silent. “What will they do? Imprison one of their own? Kill her?” Tal let out a soft laugh, one that grated up his throat and tore the breath from his lungs. “She’s a _Jetii_. No one would take the word of a clone over hers. There’s nothing we can do.”

 _“Something has to be done.”_ Ghost said firmly. _“She’s a danger to us all, to the Republic.”_

“Watch it, trooper.” Tal bristled, glancing over at his friend warily. “That’s borderline treason.”

 _“Who’s going to report me?”_ Ghost retorted boldly. _“Not you, I know you, and I know that you think this is wrong. When will you stand up for yourself? For your vode?”_

“Enough.” Tal bit out, pausing at the outskirts of the camp and facing Ghost with arms crossed. “You’re going to forget about this, understand? Leave the general to me. Stay out of it.”

Ghost’s helmet tipped back, the same quirk he hadn’t quite grown out of since they were cadets, defying their trainers with a nonverbal declaration, and Tal shook his head in warning. “Fine,” Ghost said sourly, but Tal wasn’t naive enough to believe him. Instead, he sighed.

“Get some rest, _vod_. I’ll see you in the morning.”

* * *

The kick hits home, knocking the breath from his lungs, but it still brings a smile to his face.

“Better.” He says lowly, before dropping and sweeping Longshot’s legs out from underneath him in one smooth, fluid motion. The younger trooper lands with a small, pained gasp, eyes clenched shut, and Cody grins. “But you’re leaving your lower body open when you follow through.” He waited a moment until the kid’s breaths stopped whistling. “Again.”

Longshot made a valiant attempt to get up before grimacing, falling back hard, huffing and blinking rapidly. “ _Kriff_ , everything _hurts_.”

“Suck it up, trooper. The clankers won’t be as nice as I am.”

“This is being _nice_?” Longshot said incredulously, pushing himself up on his elbows, wincing all the while. He tried to heave himself up again, but made a small, pained noise, easing back down with a defeated moan.

“You wanna be infantry your whole life?” Cody shot back, and Longshot groaned in frustration.

“ _Yes_!”

“Well too bad. You’re better than that.” Not many troopers could catch his eye, at least not many in the 212th. His men were good, some of the best, but he hadn’t seen any of them and thought _‘ARC’_. Not until Longshot.

And the most infuriating part? The kid could care less. A waste, because he had _potential_ , something not many of the others could say for themselves, but the problem wasn’t anything physical. No, in fact, staring down at him with a frown, Cody could see the uncertainty and discomfort in the way he held himself, in the way his fists were clenched and his legs still quivered- _which they shouldn’t, the adrenaline should be faded, the shakes should be gone, but they’re not, and Cody would be a horrible ori’vod if he didn’t notice-_ minutely, the way his chest still heaved. Longshot was already defeated before he’d even started.

“We’re done for the day.”

Longshot stiffens. “What?”

“You’re done.” Cody says firmly, making his way over to his armor and wiping his face with a towel. It’s silent save for the scrape of cloth on the mats as Longshot finally pulls himself to his feet.

“Sir?”

“Get cleaned up and get some rest.” He pauses. “Check in with a medic before, though. Troy’ll have my head if you don’t.” Cody turns and finds Longshot standing not far behind, holding one of his arms close to his chest with a confused frown.

“Did I... do something wrong?” His voice was strained, concerned, and it almost made Cody smile. Always aiming to please, their Longshot.

“No, you’re just done for the day.” He’d nearly pushed too far, had only seen a glimpse of the desperation in his eyes, but it was there nonetheless, and he wasn’t a sadist. He wouldn’t be the one to make him break.

“No we di-“

Cody reaches out and grabs the trooper’s shoulder, _squeezing_ , and Longshot hisses, writhing to try and get out of his hold. Point made, Cody turns back to start strapping on his armor. He can almost feel the kid’s dismay, but he purposefully ignores him until he’s almost out the door. He hesitates but doesn’t turn. “Longshot?”

“Yes sir?”

“You _can_ do this. You know that, right?”

“...yes sir.” Delayed. Forced. A lie, and Cody could only shake his head with a small smile.

“Get some rest, ‘shot.”

The door slides shut softly behind him, and Cody takes a slow, even breath before starting towards his quarters. His comm suddenly chimes to life, and he answers it on reflex. “Cody.”

“ _Cody_ ,” Obi-Wan’s voice is carefully neutral, and Cody frowns. “ _We’ve been called back to Coruscant. The men have been given sanctioned leave by the Council._ ”

“The Council?” He questions softly, and his comm transmits static when Obi-Wan sighs.

“ _The Chancellor is in danger_.”

Cody wants to be surprised. He’s not. However, he’s annoyed. “They have an entire battalions worth of soldiers on Coruscant to prevent that from happening, including some of the most competent commanders I know. That doesn’t make sense.”

Coruscant was arguably one of the safest places for a politician to reside, not only because of the ‘Guards annoyingly persistent security measures- _courtesy of one very stressed yet scarily efficient Commander Fox-_ but because the entirety of the Jedi Order called it their home as well. To call Obi-Wan in from the field when they’d just begun to make progress was telling.

Obi-Wan was silent. “ _Please inform the men, Cody_.”

“Gener-“

The connection went dead, and Cody was left staring down at his vambrace in shock.

“Sir?”

Cody jumped and glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of Longshot’s sweaty face and mussed hair before turning back to walk down the corridor. Longshot scrambled to catch up. “Yes? Thought I told you to get some rest.”

“Looks like I won’t need it. We’re going back to Coruscant?”

“It appears so.”

“‘s that a good thing?”

Cody looked over at him and made a face. “I don’t know, don’t worry about it. Tell Wa- Boil to spread the word.”

Longshot stopped at the door to the barracks and nodded, the door sliding open to reveal the roughhousing troopers within. It made Cody smile, even if he did see at least three regulations being broken, and he clapped Longshot on the shoulder before moving on.

Waxer’s absence had been particularly noticeably the past few days, whether from the way Boil seemed determined to stay mute unless spoken to or simply from the bunk that had yet to be filled, he didn’t know. He wasn’t naive enough to hope that it would get better, and he once again curses his decision to put him in charge of Ghost.

He hadn’t needed to. Cody could have led the Company well enough. He wonders if that would have changed the lieutenant’s- no, his _friend’s_ fate.

Cody punches in the access code with waning enthusiasm, pausing in the doorway to look around the drab quarters. A locker, a bunk, some table of sorts that could vaguely be considered a desk. The bare necessities that made him a functioning cog in the vast machine that was the GAR. And to think that _vode_ envied him.

He’d never realized just how lonely a life he led until the soft squeak of his mattress was the only noise in the room, and he lets himself fall back, eliciting an even bigger groan of protest from the cheap bunk, a few particles of dust managing to find their way into his throat and nose, and he coughs.

He falls asleep that way, staring up at the durasteel above him with nothing but the sound of his own breaths to lull him, and after he remembers the lifeless eyes of Boil, he thinks that maybe it’s best he’s alone.

* * *

Wolffe would like to think that he’s an observant person. He _knows_ he is, to an extent, but he realizes that somewhere he’s failed when the next morning Comet was limp against his side, heat emanating from in waves.

It wasn’t uncommon, wasn’t a _secret_ that the younger trooper was clingy- _“Loving,” Comet would always snap back, rolling his eyes. “I’m not clingy.”_ \- and Wolffe had thought nothing of it when the trooper plopped down beside him and curled into his side. He should’ve noticed something was different.

“Hey,” Wolffe whispers harshly, not daring to face Sinker’s wrath at being disturbed at ass-o’clock in the morning just yet. “Comet?”

Comet doesn’t stir. When Wolffe sits up, the arm that had rested on his waist flops back to the bedroll ungracefully, but the jarring motion has Comet’s brow furrowing.

He freezes, however, when the back of his hand brushes against the skin of Comet’s neck. The touch is scalding, and Wolffe finally manages to haul his brain up and force it into gear, rolling Comet onto his back and pressing cool fingers to the pulse point at his neck. The _thump thump thump thump_ under his fingertips is too erratic, too unhinged to be anything but bad news, and he curses before fumbling for his comm.

 _“Stinger.”_ The medic sounds exhausted, and Wolffe only has the slightest twinge of remorse before shoving it away.

“Something’s wrong with Comet, and I don’t know what to do. He’s really hot, sweaty, and his heart is-“

 _“Sir, start over.”_ Stinger waits patiently before continuing. _“First off, check him for any wounds he may have received yesterday. Hiding injuries isn’t uncommon.”_

Easier said than done considering the pure, solid mass of muscle that Comet was, but Wolffe managed, running his hands down his burning skin and feeling nothing. “He’s clean.”

_“Good. That means this is something entirely internal. Bad news is, we have to find out what exactly. I need you to slowly recite his symptoms to me. Even the ones that could seem unimportant.”_

“Uh,” Wolffe pauses, tapering off when Sinker detaches himself from Boost’s hold long enough to glare at him from across the tent seethingly. He tries to look apologetic. He figures he fails if the way Sinker flips him off before collapsing back to his ‘roll is anything to go by. “He’s hot to the touch-“

_“Fever. ‘kay, go on.”_

“-he’s lethargic, wont let me wake him up. His pulse is all over the place. I can’t tell if there’s anything else.”

_“If you can’t wake him up, we have a problem.”_

“What’s wrong with him?”

_“What it sounds like right now? Too vague to tell. It’s most likely Petal Fever. It’s just his body trying to acclimate to this fekking planet. It’s not contagious, should be harmless as long as it’s treated, which, if you follow my instructions, it will be.”_

Wolffe let out a harsh breath. “Okay, so wake him up...?”

_“Wake him up, keep him hydrated, come by when it’s actually a godly hour of the day and I’ll see if I can scrounge something to help. If he has anymore symptoms-“_

“I’ll comm you.”

Stinger hummed. _“Good. Now, respectfully, sir, let me sleep.”_

Wolffe tossed the comm back to the pile of armor a little ways off, hearing but choosing to ignore the loud _clack_ the action produced. Sinker was going to kill him in the morning.

Deciding to forgo the softer approach, Wolffe reached down and grabbed Comet’s shoulders before shaking him. “Comet.” He hissed, and the trooper let out a groan that morphed into a whine when the shaking didn’t let up.

Finally, Comet blinked open his eyes, breath catching audibly before he coughed, deep and racking. “Wolffe, what-“ More coughing, his whole body curling in at the action, and someone from further down the bedrolls cursed and squinted in their direction. Wolffe couldn’t tell who it was, but he bared his teeth anyway, satisfied when they relented with a scowl and laid back down.

“ _Abds,_ ” Comet rasped, collapsing back to the ‘roll and turning to bury his face against Wolffe’s thigh.

“ _Ni kar’taylir_.” Wolffe murmured, carefully prying himself from the other’s hold and reaching for the water packet from his kit. “ _Cuun gar liser atiniir_?”

“ _Nayc_.” Comet panted out, writhing and tugging at his blacks, and Wolffe caught his hands before he could go further. “ _Ma pa hettyc_.”

“Comet,” He said firmly, and the younger stilled beneath him, still panting, but watching him with wide, glazed eyes. “ _K’uur, udesii, verd’ika. Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya.”_

He reached forward to offer the packet, but Comet shook his head rapidly, lips trembling around a panicked “ _hettyc_ ”, and Wolffe growled.

“You need to drink, it’ll help.”

“ _Abds_.” Comet repeated again, voice strained and high, and Wolffe had to grit his teeth to stop from swearing.

“I know it hurts, but you _have_ to drink, then you can sleep again, yeah?” Comet started to protest, but Wolffe cut him off with a snarl. “That’s an _order_ , Comet.”

The change was immediate, and Comet, muscles still rippling minutely, went lax beneath him, pretty hazel eyes staring up at him, suddenly clearer than they’d been, betrayed. Wolffe looked away, but still grimaced when he mumbled, “Yes sir.”

The water was gone all too soon, and Comet, despite the shivers and obvious discomfort he was feeling, was silent save for his rasping breaths.

Wolffe ~~grumbled~~ sighed and flopped back down next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him against him. “I have you.” He whispered, and when Comet leaned back into his touch, he knew his apology had been accepted.

* * *

Rex, stripped to his blacks and uncharacteristically quiet, watched him bustle around the tent with dark, solemn eyes.

It was unnerving, to say the least, and Anakin shot him a worried look before grabbing his comm, a blanket, and a water packet before padding back over. He eased down beside him, smiling despite himself when Rex scooted into his side, shoulder brushing against shoulder as they sat in a comfortable silence.

“You should drink.” Anakin suggested softly, but Rex remained motionless, fists clenched and expression dull, eyes trained on the tent flap as if expecting someone to walk through any minute. They didn’t. Rex still watched it with a sense of fierce determination, jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

Anakin let out a frustrated exhale, falling back to the bedroll and tucking his arms behind his head. “We’re safe, you know that, right?”

Rex glanced at him, a quick, nearly imperceptible thing before his gaze was back on the tent’s opening.

A light rain pattered against the tent, the sound oddly soothing, and Anakin let his eyes slide closed with a sigh.

He awoke to a particularly loud clap of thunder, jolting at the unexpected noise, but relaxing when awareness came flooding back. _Flooding_ was a fitting word, because there was at least half an inch or more of water soaking into his bedroll. Rex, however, didn’t seem deterred in the slightest, sitting in the exact same position Anakin had left him, eyes drooping but still focused on the opening. If he noticed the water soaking into his blacks, he said nothing, but he was shivering, no doubt from the chill in the air courtesy of the storm raging beyond, and Anakin bit back a huff as he reached out and grabbed his captain’s arm.

It was surprisingly easy to tug him down beside him, even easier to wrap the damp blanket around them both and hold him close. It wasn’t ideal, certainly wasn’t adequate protection for someone already soaked to the bone, but it was all he could offer. Rex was stiff for all of a minute before slowly relaxing into him, chilled hands reaching out to wrap around Anakin’s significantly warmer torso, and he let himself drift again, lulled by the soft, even breaths beside him and the occasional rumbles of thunder.

* * *

Somethings wrong. He can feel it, this itch that won’t leave, and Jesse has never been one to doubt himself. The dream is a reoccurring anomaly that can no longer be ignored, and the ~~vision~~ images burn in the back of his mind, hot as a brand.

If he’s being honest, he has no idea what he’s been seeing all these nights, but he knows he sees Fives, and he sees the _Chancellor_ , and Fox and pain and _death_ and a _dar’jetii- no!_

Jesse inhales sharply, blinks against his stinging eyes and focuses back on the rations in his hand. The camp is quiet this early, only the watch and command the only _vode_ milling about, and it’s about the only semblance of privacy he can manage.

He wonders if Kix had been having The Nightmare as much as he had, wonders if he was the only one seeing a bleak, unfixable future. Maybe he was defective. It would explain the sleepless nights spent staring at the tent’s canvas hearing screams that weren’t his own, screams that hadn’t even occurred yet.

The smell of rain still hangs heavy in the air, charged with energy yet to be unleashed, and he lets his head tip back to look up at the gray canopy of sky above him.

Someone drops down beside him, a respectful distance away, and he glances at them, just once. Kix doesn’t say anything, just... sits there, looking up at the same endless gray as Jesse, but he has a feeling that they’re not seeing the same thing. Not in the way that matters.

He can feel the medic’s eyes on him, can feel the restlessness in the way he shifts as if to move closer, in the way he taps his fingers against his thigh-plate. No, not a tic. A wordless question.

_Okay?_

Jesse almost smiles, feels the beginnings of it before it unravels faster than it was assembled. He hesitates, hand hovering over his own thigh-plate before tapping.

_No._

He would never lie to Kix, never, but the medic still seems shocked by the truth anyway, visibly taken aback, brows creasing in worry even as he shifts just the slightest bit closer. Jesse has always admired Kix’s hands, admired the strength, the precision, the skill held in them, but it’s nothing compared to the way Kix taps out a reassurance, steady and firm.

 _Okay._ _Here._

Kix finally looks back up at the sky, and Jesse takes the opportunity to look over at him.

He thinks that maybe his dreamvision _no-stop!_ wouldn’t be nearly as terrifying if Kix had been in it. But he’s not. He’s just- he’s not, amidst the pain and confusion and _good soldiers follow orders_ **_follow orders_** , he’s gone. He wonders how it happens, if it’s a blaster shot, a crash, a sacrifice, maybe, that sounds more like his Kixystix, but he can’t think of that for long. The thought of Kix, cold and dead with a smoldering hole in his chest, or crushed beneath a flaming _laatie_ is too much, and Jesse can’t _breathe_. Kix dies. He _dies_ , he leaves Jesse, he leaves him, and he promised he _wouldn’t_ why the _kriff would he leave him he loves him-_

“Jesse, breathe.”

Jesse glances at him sharply, but obeys nonetheless, pulling in a breath of misty air. Kix hasn’t moved, hasn’t invaded his space, hasn’t forced himself close, and Jesse would thank him if he could find his voice. He thinks he would fall apart if someone touched him.

Kix is watching him again, eyes soft and full of something he’s too tired to discern, and it makes Jesse’s chest ache in ways it shouldn’t. He wants to explain, wants to apologize, wants to let him know that he means more to Jesse than anything in the entire galaxy, wants to tell him that he’s so scared it hurts to even _look_ at him, but instead, he remains still, tries to pretend he doesn’t hear the way Kix murmurs his name like a prayer.

He sees Kix look down at his comm, sees the way his shoulders drop and can practically feel his frustration, and smiles to himself. Someone as talented as Kix was never able to get away from work for long, and the thought has pride welling up within him.

Kix doesn’t get up, though, just settles back down and looks back up at the sky.

Jesse frowns. “You should go.” His voice sounds like gravel, too dry, too strained, and he ducks his head to avoid Kix’s stare.

“No, I shouldn’t.” He envies the steady lilt to the medic’s tone.

“I’m fine, Kix. They need you more than I do.”

Kix twitches at that. “They’re stable. I already chose them over you once, I won’t do it again.”

_Admirable._

_Stupid._

Jesse finally looks at him, and the weight of the knowledge of what will become of them, of what will become of them _all_ nearly tears him apart, and he’s lunging for Kix with the desperation of a dying man. He shakes and shakes and _shakes_ , feels his burning eyes fill with tears and he grips at Kix, trying to gain a hold on the plastoid and failing.

Kix holds him through it all, until they’re both sliding off the crate and huddling together on the ground. It’s not comfortable, certainly not the sensible thing to do, because it’s muddy, and it’s seeping into their greaves and soaking into their blacks, but he can’t bring himself to care, can only tuck himself against Kix and beg him to stay. He must be shaking harder than he’d originally thought, because Kix tightens his hold and pulls back to press his forehead against Jesse’s, momentarily grounding him.

“Shhh, I have you, I’m here. I’m not leaving, _I’m right here_ , deep breaths, _vod_ , c’mon, breathe for me.”

He only remembers they’re in the middle of camp when Kix stops cooing nonsense long enough to lift his head and talk to someone, voice vibrating through his diaphragm and into Jesse and causing a shiver to trail down his frame. Jesse doesn’t know who, only knows it’s a _vod_ , and the knowledge has him keeping his head tucked firmly against Kix’s chest, trying inadvertent to hear just the smallest beat of his heart.

They must have left, because Kix turns his attention back to him and strokes up and down his side soothingly, murmuring something unintelligible.

“Don’t leave me.” Jesse says, and he hears Kix make a small sound.

“Never.”

A lie. It just breaks him more, but he forces himself to nod anyway, to memorize the feel of him, the smell of him, the way his voice sounded whispering reassurances. Jesse has never been one foolish enough to make promises, but he guesses people change, because he vows that very moment to not let his dreams come true. Even if it means giving up his own life in the process.

* * *

He finds out on accident.

He’s not sure who exactly projects, he’s not even sure how he’s able to connect so deeply, so _intimately_ , but one moment he’s talking with Master Pralua, and the next he’s just... not himself.

It’s not his memories, not _his_ mind, but it _feels_ like it is.

_His brothers around him, saluting their general- Pralua, the Jedi eyes them haughtily- with equal precision and care. Water soaking into his blacks, cold, shivering, **keep moving.**_

_“Problem, Captain?”_

_Vode falling, blood on his face, on his hands, in his mouth, he’s covered in it, choking on it. Heart pounding, head throbbing, keep moving, don’t stop, **please stop.**_

_“CC-1910, are you malfunctioning?”_

_Someone in his mind, forceful, painful, touching and tainting and taking- “Are you okay?”- too much, he can’t breathe, can’t think enough to force her out- “You don’t look good.”- get out, get out get out **get out out out out.**_

_Watching Skywalker, his men, General Koon, the way they respected each other, the way Koon’s hand brushed against his commander’s shoulder in passing, the way Skywalker looked at his captain, wondering why their general was different, hoping, begging, **please, we’re right here-**_

“Skywalker?”

Anakin tears himself away with a gasp, stumbling and trying to right himself. He fails, hits the side of the holotable hard, sinks to the ground, closing his eyes when the lights stab the back of eyes.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

Even with the connection gone it’s still too much, images he’s never seen, feelings that weren’t his own, _pain he’s never felt_ , all of it a fresh wound in his mind, and he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees white.

“Skywalker?”

His eyes snap open involuntarily, and Anakin sucks in a sharp breath when the first thing he sees is _her._

_“General, please-“_

_“Sir-“_

_“He’s just a kid.”_

_“Please, sir, it won’t happen again-“_

_“Stop!”_

Anakin’s breath catches. “You...”

Pralua’s brow furrows. “Me?”

“ _Why_?” He breathes, and the effort alone has his chest aching. He can’t look her in the eye, can barely stand looking at her at _all_ , but there’s a small, childish fear that if he looks away even for a second she could strike. “You can’t- you-“ Anakin cuts himself off, forces himself to release everything into the Force, forces his heart to return to a normal pace, closes his eyes and counts to ten, does everything in his power to try and stop the ugly, black rage that claws up his throat and clouds his judgement.

_There is no emotion._

It’s choking him, thick and endless, and he makes an effort to stand only to collapse back with a strangled groan.

_There is peace._

“You,” Anakin grinds out, and his voice doesn’t sound like his own, feral, unhinged, and a shudder passes over him. “You’re a _monster_.”

_There is no ignorance._

His lightsaber is in his hand and ignited before he can even remember reaching for it, and Pralua laughs. “You have the anger of a Sith, young one. It drapes over you like a-“

Anakin lunges, but the Jedi Master leaps and lands elegantly a ways behind him, her own saber igniting with a hiss.

_There is knowledge._

The bright flash as their lightsabers meet is nearly blinding, and Anakin snarls and _shoves_ , satisfied when Pralua stumbles back a step. “I’ll kill you,” He snaps, twirling his blade in a graceful arc before leveling it at the Master. “And nobody will even care to remember your name.”

_There is no passion._

“On the contrary,” Pralua smiles cruelly, switching her stance to a more comfortable defense. “They will _all_ remember my name.”

_There is serenity._

Anakin sees red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (since this was a very mando’a heavy chapter)
> 
>  _ni ceta_ \- i’m sorry
> 
>  _Gedet’ye_ \- please
> 
>  _Rang_ \- Ash
> 
>  _Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la_ \- not gone, merely marching far away
> 
>  _Abds_ \- hurts
> 
>  _Ni kar’taylir_ \- i know
> 
>  _Cuun gar liser atiniir_ \- are you able to make it? (more specifically: are you able to endure, tough it out, to stick with)
> 
>  _Nayc_ \- no
> 
>  _Ma pa hettyc_ \- i’m burning
> 
>  _K’uur_ \- hush, be quiet
> 
>  _Nu jurkad Mando'ade, burc'ya_ \- a reassurance, comparable to “steady”
> 
>  _hettyc_ \- don’t
> 
> this took an embarrassingly long time and i honestly have almost nothing to show for it. i’m so so sorry for how short this is! i’ve been super busy and honestly have had no time or motivation to write, so i cut this chapter short to hopefully make me write the next chapter faster. 
> 
> the kix/jesse jumped out and no i’m not apologizing lmao, i miss them :( jesse, if you couldn’t already tell, plays a major roll in the plot (which has yet to be fully set in motion because i’m such a fucking slut for slow burns and can’t seem to help myself. seriously. the plot has barely begun and we’re 15 chapters in). 
> 
> there was also a very real lack of Reka in this chapter? and Fives too, but he’s about to get a _lot_ of attention as well as Jesse, so that’s why. not really a lot of rex/anakin either. oops. but i promise this furthers the plot, just bear with me y’all! 
> 
> forgive grammatical errors please lovelies, i’ve reread this so many times i think i may have gotten them all but i can’t be sure.
> 
> next chapter will be up _much_ faster and i apologize for the wait!! have an amazing day and remember to stay safe! (drink some water kids)


	16. secrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _destruction was not what i intended for you._

Being a Jedi came second.

His first memories aren’t of the Temple, aren’t of Masters and Knights lecturing and teaching him control, aren’t of the peace a life free of loss can bring, no. His first memories are sand and pain.

He remembers the itch under his skin, the fear that one wrong move, just _one_ would set him and his mother off, blowing them sky high and leaving nothing but a shattered memory of what they could have been behind. It never happened, though, but the fear didn’t fade.

He remembers staring up at the crumbling roof above him and wondering what it would be like to be _free_ , to be able to walk the streets and not be asked how much he was or who his master was- _“you’re a fine specimen, for a human, you will grow very strong. would your master be willing to negotiate on a price?”_ \- what it would be like to see trees, _real_ trees, but all he sees is brown. And sand. He hates it.

_How much are you, boy?_

He remembers tears, remembers walking away and condemning his mother to a life in slavery, remembers hearing her screams, remembers cradling her close- _so close, because he wanted to feel her, needed to, he hasn’t been touched in so long and he misses her **please** -_ as she died. He _felt_ her die, felt the warmth leave her skin as her soul left her body, and it takes his breath away. He found that he didn’t want to feel her anymore.

And all the while he burns, this white hot rage that just builds and builds until he feels as if he’ll _explode_ , as if any moment it’ll boil over and he’ll be exactly what Master Windu said he would be.

A waste of time.

Untrainable.

_How much are you **worth** , boy?_

He knows, now, why the Sith are such formidable foes, because he’s never felt the raw, untamed _power_ that he can feel surging through his veins now, has never felt so _alive_ , and Pralua smiles at him hugely.

“Do you want to know?” She hisses, ducking under his blade in one swift, graceful move. The Force echoes his frustration.

“I know everything I need to know about you.” He snaps back, swinging his blade in a deadly arc, but Pralua brings hers up to block the strike just in time. The sound the sabers make as they collide grates on his ears and sends a shiver up his spine, but he doesn’t let up the pressure until he feels her give beneath him. His muscles burn with the exertion, the hilt of his lightsaber quivering and groaning in his hold, and a flash of fear darts through the other Jedi’s eyes.

Anakin _grinds_ his saber down, and Pralua’s whines and spits sparks, threatening to fail under his weight, and he can see the moment her fear turns to panic.

It makes something inside of him happy, _gleeful_ even, and when she looks up, startled, into his eyes, she suddenly pales. She chokes something that sounds like a prayer and a curse combined before he gives one final _shove_ , her lightsaber relenting with a pitiful sputter before it deactivates altogether, leaving her staring at him in a mixture of shock and fear on the ground.

He doesn’t waste time, raising his lightsaber and-

“Skywalker.”

Anakin blinked, felt a cool press of _calm_ easing into his mind and sent back a warm wash of gratitude in return before lowering his arm. He deactivated his lightsaber before turning his back on the fallen Master completely, facing Plo with a slight nod. “Master,” He greeted, feeling oddly rebuked, before continuing. “She has violated the Code with the mistreatment of her troops, she-“

The Kel Dor held up a hand sharply, and Anakin fell silent. “Whether this is true or not, the decision to take her life is not your own.” A lull, then, when Plo glanced over at Pralua, who pulled herself to her feet with obvious difficulty. “Your presence has been requested by the Council, you must return to Coruscant immediately.”

“What?” Anakin snapped, casting a quick glance at Pralua. “Why? I’m needed _here_.”

“I’m afraid it’s not up for debate. The Council specifically requested your presence, as _soon_ as possible.”

“And you?”

Plo crosses his arms, regarding them both for a time before speaking. “The 104th will remain here and finish the campaign. The 228th will accompany you to Coruscant until _you,_ ” Pralua raised her chin indignantly. “Can be brought before the Council and a decision can be reached as to your affiliation with the Order.”

Its silent save for Pralua’s labored breaths and the sound of the troopers moving about beyond, but it’s broken by-

“Rex.” Anakin blurts instinctively, and the captain lets the tent flap fall closed again, but not before he catches sight of gunships ascending to the _Resolute_.

“The 228th has been successfully evacuated and is on their way to Coruscant.” His helmet finally tips in Anakin’s direction, almost lazily. “We’re all that’s left, sir. It’s time to go.”

He must show more than he thinks, because Plo is suddenly stepping forward and placing a warm, firm hand on his shoulder. “Everything will be fine, Skywalker. Now go,” Then, quieter, with a pointed look at Pralua, “And do try to keep out of trouble.”

Anakin manages a small smile, ignoring the pull of exhaustion left behind in the wake of- _everything_. “You know me, Master. I’m practically an Angel.”

* * *

It’s _ungodly_ hot in the hangar of the _Resolute_ , and Fives leans over to wipe his sweaty forehead on Reka’s back with a groan. It has the opposite effect, seeing as their blacks are soaked through and reeking of sweat as well, only serving to smear more onto his skin, but it’s worth it when Reka makes a disgusted noise and tries to shove him away.

“One more to go.” Fives reminds breathlessly, giving an overly dramatic huff when they finally drop the crate against the wall. It’s a waste, he thinks, because Coruscant is less than an hour away by now, but he doesn’t dare say that to Rex’s face. Best to stay on the man’s good side while he still can.

“Three more, actually.” Jesse calls cheerfully as he passes them, and Fives spits a curse.

Most of the men are stripped to their blacks, save for the few brave souls attempting to soldier on in full kit, and Fives motions Reka to a stop when he reaches for another crate.

“What are you doing?” Reka stares at him, hands on hips and apparently perfectly fine with sweating _his_ ass off, but Fives _isn’t_.

“Listen, kid, it’s not like we’re gettin’ paid, right?”

“Right.” Reka drawled, furrowing his brows.

“So what’s the big deal? It’ll get done eventually.”

“That’s not- _ow_!”

The _vod_ responsible ducks out of Reka’s reach with a laugh before scrambling away and disappearing amidst the other clones milling about, and Reka pouts, rubbing his _shebs_ with an offended huff. Fives raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“What? That _hurt_ , man.”

“Oh yeah? What abo-“

“Fives! Back to work.”

Fives pushed off the crate he’d been leaning on with a grumble, tossing Captain Rex a dirty look out of the corner of his eye, and Reka choked down a laugh. “Really?” He cooed mockingly, smiling further when Fives scowled at him.

“Watch it. I’ll stuff you in one of those and ship you right back to Kamino.”

“I’m sure they’d love to have me back.”

“Bet you were a pleasure.”

“Damn straight.”

Jesse and Tup passed them with a new load, and, despite the obvious difficulty, Jesse managed a fake gasp and a breathless, “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Shouldn’t you be swapping spit with Kix, _vod_?” Fives yelled back, and Jesse shouted a “ _kriff_ you, Fives” back at him.

“Fives! I won’t tell you again, trooper, get moving.” Rex’s helmet was on, arms crossed as he surveyed the men working, and Reka frowned.

“What crawled up his _shebs_ and died?”

Fives let out a breathless laugh before grabbing one end of a crate, motioning for Reka to do the same. “Nah, he’s just worried. Stressed. Comes with being captain, I guess.”

Reka was quiet for a moment. “Do you think he doesn’t like me?” A sharp glance from Fives had him ducking his head in embarrassment. “I just get this weird feeling, y’know? Like I’ve done something, but I don’t know _what_.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’ll warm up to you, he always does.” Fives pretended to think for a moment. “Or does he?”

Reka scoffed, jostling the crate and making Fives yelp to try and steady it again. “What _ever_.”

Choosing to mercifully ignore the uncertainty in his voice, Fives grinned. “Maybe you can _gain his favor_ like I did, yeah? Blow up a station, save Kamino? Or maybe getting ARC would suit you better.”

“You wear a _skirt_ , my dignity could never.”

“It’s a _kama_.”

“Skirt.”

“Echo wears a kama, what, is _he_ undignified?” Fives asks with a grin, and Reka suddenly goes... _smug_. Fives is suddenly suspicious, and he eyes the kid warily.

“I mean, do _you_ think he’s dignified?”

Fives frowns, confused, and drops the crate at Reka’s prompting. “Well- yeah, he’s one of the most dignified people I know. What are you-“

“Y’know,” Reka interrupts, furrowing his brows in thought, lifting his uppers to wipe the sweat from his face. “Echo never told me his favorite color.”

Fives stares at him. “ _What_?”

“I’m just curious.” Reka shrugs, gives him an innocent look. “So, what _is_ his favorite color?”

“Blue.” Fives says slowly, but then immediately takes it back. “But not 501st blue, or dark blue, it’s like... the real pretty blue, the kind that was on Felucia. The light blue.” He stops to think again. “Greenish, I guess. He wouldn’t stop starin’ at it the whole time we were there. Thought he would trip over his own feet he was so distracted by it.”

Reka hums. “Never seen it for myself. Bet it’s pretty, though. How often do you think Echo cleans his armor?” Fives blinks at him at the sudden change, confused, and Reka waves a hand dismissively. “Just wondering, he’s not exactly here to ask.”

“He cleans it every night before his shower, says it makes more sense to wash off the dirt from cleaning his armor from his hands, that way they’re clean. Messy bunks aren’t his thing, especially after cleaning his kit, the grime would get everywhere.”

Reka gives him a deadpan stare. “How long have you known?”

“What?” Fives crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“Never play Sabacc, sir, I guarantee you you’ll lose. You couldn’t see a bantha if it was in front of you.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Fives demanded, but Reka shook his head and motioned Fives to a new crate.

“Never mind, we need to get this done. Just come find me when you finally figure it out, yeah?”

“ _What_?”

* * *

Rex decides that he hates Coruscant. Not only because of the absolutely disgusting lower levels, which is plenty reason enough, but because of _her_.

Senator Padme Amidala is _breathtakingly_ gorgeous, with the kind of gentle, soft presence that turned heads without much prompting- _so long as she doesn’t turn **his** Jedi’s head, they’ll be fine, but he supposes it’s a little late for that, isn’t it?_\- and her _voice_. He wonders if it’s always so high and sweet or if it’s simply selective. She’s beautiful. And she just so happens to be _very_ familiar with one Anakin Skywalker. That is, if her bright smile and gasp of “Ani” is anything to go by.

He wrinkles his nose.

_Ani? Really?_

“Padme! It’s good to see you again.” Anakin says, and Rex glances over at him.

_Padme?_

“And you as well. You’re looking a little worn, has the war really escalated that quickly? Or have you been the one doing the escalating?”

Anakin sighs good-naturedly, and Rex wants to mirror him, because they’re supposed to be meeting _General Kenobi_ , not socializing, but he wisely holds his tongue and resists the urge to shift. “You know me,” Is he missing something? Rex thinks he’s missing something, he has to be, because there’s something more with those two, the way they looked at each other, the easy banter. Rex suddenly feels very, _very_ uncomfortable. “I’m always doing one thing or another.” The words are emphasized by a laugh, and Padme’s responding giggle could be charming if Rex wasn’t already nursing a headache.

“Indeed. Well,” Her gaze lands on Rex, and he straightens underneath it. The pleasant smile hasn’t left her face, and she looks him over quickly. Rex knows an assessment when he sees one. He rises to the challenge all the same. “And you are?”

Taking off his helmet is proper protocol, especially to a ~~superior~~ Senator but he doesn’t particularly want to try and control his expressions throughout this entire exchange. He leaves it on. “Captain Rex. It’s a pleasure to meet you, _Senator_.” He must address her too sharply, because Anakin glances over at him and frowns, sending a brief pang of confusion at him through the Force. He ignores it.

Amidala still smiles, even if it does look a little strained when directed at him. “The pleasures all mine, Captain. Keeping Anakin in line for me?”

 _That_ makes his mask of indifference slip the slightest bit, and there’s an awkward pause as he tries to put himself back together to decipher what the _hells that meant._ “Of course, sir. I try.”

Anakin has gone worryingly quiet beside him, but Rex doesn’t give him the satisfaction of his gaze. Padme seems oblivious. “Don’t let him tire you out too much, he’s a handful.” Then, she turns to Anakin. “I have to go. If you’re ever free, you know where to find me. It would be nice to catch up, maybe go get lunch?”

Rex raises an eyebrow, because _kark_ , she _is_ a bold one.

“Of course. It’s been too long.” Anakin agreed, giving her a bright smile, and she returned it with just as much enthusiasm before excusing herself, giving one last nod to Rex before making her way primly down the steps of the Temple, her guards not far behind, and his Jedi watched her go with an unreadable expression.

“We’re late, sir.” Rex reminds tersely, and Anakin’s exhale is a nearly imperceptible thing.

“Rex-“

“The Council’s waiting, sir.” Because he may be confused as hell, but Rex isn’t selfish, and he isn’t about to delay them any further then they already have been just because of... of _feelings_.

_That goes for one of us, at least._

Anakin’s quiet a moment. “Yeah, yeah you’re right.” He gives him a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, lacks the same zeal it had when it had been directed at the Senator. Rex doesn’t bother returning it. He wouldn’t see it anyway.

When Kenobi finally catches sight of them, Cody by his side, he crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “And where have _you_ been?”

“Relax, Master, we’re not _that_ late, are we, Rex?”

Rex gives a disinterested “No, sir”.

“And it had nothing to do with Senator Amidala leaving just a few moments ago?”

The grimace on Anakin’s face is answer enough, and Kenobi rolls his eyes. “Do try to be responsible, Anakin. _Honestly_.” Then, when he finally deems his chastising enough, he turns to Rex and Cody. “I’m afraid this is confidential, gentleman. The Council was very specific in that it is to be only the two of us.” He gestures vaguely between him and Anakin, and Cody nods without further prompting.

“Of course, sir. Jedi business. We understand.” Cody seems a little _too_ eager to get out, but Rex doesn’t question it when the commander lays a firm hand on his arm and leads him away. When they’re a safe distance, Cody slows his pace, shoulders slumping just the smallest bit.

“You alright?” Rex can’t see his face, but he has a feeling Cody frowns anyway.

“Yeah, ‘m just tired.” Cody’s head suddenly tilts, amused, and Rex follows his gaze, realization dawning when he sees the Coruscant red. “I think we should give Fox’ika a visit, don’t you think?”

Rex snorted. “If by _visit_ you mean a visit to the detention level, then yeah, go ‘head, _vod_.”

“Fox loves me.”

“He would kill us in our sleep for even stepping _close_ to his boys. Don’t do it.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Cody-“

* * *

Anakin looks High Jedi General Windu dead in the eye and says, very clearly, “No.”

Obi-Wan, though, however reluctantly, agrees. “Yes.”

Anakin can only stare at him incredulously. “You would be lying to- to _everyone_. _I_ would be lying to my men, what about when it’s done? People will have already mourned your death.”

“A necessary step, this is, in protecting the Chancellor.” Yoda says, regarding him with dark, knowing eyes, and Anakin has to bite the inside of his cheek to reign in his sneer.

“All you must do, Skywalker, is remain silent. We are trusting you with highly sensitive information. Obi-Wan has decided. Now, are you going to _help_ us, or do we have to confine you to the Temple?” Windu says sharply, and Obi-Wan lowers his gaze to the floor, wincing in sympathy even as Anakin scoffs.

“This is _crazy_. They’re smarter than you think, they’re going to know somethings not right when after only 18 hours of being docked their general is dead.”

“Who is this _they_ you speak of?” Master Mundi asks, head tilted, and Anakin feels a stab of indignation.

“The clones.”

“The _clones_ ,” Mace drawls, narrowing his gaze at Anakin with barely concealed impatience. “Have nothing to do with this. Besides, if all goes well, Obi-Wan will be back within the week.”

Master Plo’s holo flickers briefly before stabilizing. He doesn’t look pleased, not in the slightest, and Anakin silently begs him to oppose. He doesn’t.

_Anakin._

His head jerks to his Master so fast he hears his neck crack, and those blue eyes bore into his own with a steady reassurance despite the weariness within them.

_Everything will be alright. Trust me._

“Control yourself, you must, young Skywalker.” Anakin finally tears himself away from Obi-Wan long enough to see Yoda raise a gnarled finger. “Or fail, this plan will.”

He feels shame curl in his gut at the implication, and he bows his head in what he hopes is acceptable respect. “Of course, Masters. I will not be the cause of such disaster.”

“Good.” Windu says shortly, and then he’s motioning for Obi-Wan to follow him out. “We have to prepare. Skywalker, you’re dismissed.”

 _That’s it, then,_ he thinks, giving another quick bow before allowing himself to be ushered from the room. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself, after that.

First Pralua- _he can’t remember if he’d seen her being escorted to one of the chambers or not, and it irks him that he’d let her out of his sight so easily_ \- then Padme- _an entirely new mess for him to deal with. He’d tried to get a read on Rex, but his emotions had been carefully kept in check, not even the slightest bit out of place. It had been telling_ \- and now _this_.

“Poodoo,” He whispers harshly, and no one but the Force hears him.

* * *

“What the fuck do you want from me.”

Rex clutches at his chest-plate in mock pain, and sees Fox twitch at the motion. “You wound me. Is that any way to talk to a Captain, _vod_?”

“I literally outrank you, you little _womp rat_ -“

Cody finally makes his appearance, dramatically rounding the corner with a confidence that would even put a Jedi to shame, and he can visibly see Fox deflate. Then, very firmly, as if saying it aloud will make it true, Fox says, “No, no I’m not doing this today. You-“ He points an accusing finger at Cody, who keeps advancing, forcing Fox to step back to keep out of reach. “Get out, you _kriffing_ \- no, Rex! _Do not touch that_.”

Rex pauses with a finger poised above the small button, giving a short, calculating glance around Fox’s office just to be sure the di’kut hadn’t rigged the place- _listen, Rex loves him, he really does, but Fox would greet death with a smile and open arms, offer it a cup of caf for kriffs sake, **no one was safe**_ \- before pressing down.

Fox flinches. For a moment it’s completely silent, and Rex thinks that maybe the commander had just been joking, but then the intercom overhead crackles to life. “What is it, Commander Fox?”

Rex’s jaw drops. Cody stops his advance, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling in shock.

_Chancellor Palpatine was connected to Fox’s office?_

“Chancellor Palpatine is connected to your office?” He hisses harshly, and Fox rips his helmet off long enough to bare his teeth in a snarl- _Wolffe had to teach him that, he had to, because the action looks entirely too much like the 104th commander for Fox to have picked it up on his own-_ before he speaks, voice blessedly level.

“It’s nothing, sir, accidentally pressed it when I was cleanin’ up.” The lie falls far too easily from Fox, and Rex can only continue to gape at him. Fox is... surprisingly sly, when he wants to be, a far cry from the sarcastic _ori’vod_ he’s always seen.

_Well, his name **is** Fox._

The Chancellor doesn’t bother with a reply, and there’s a _click_ as the connection cuts. Cody is deathly still, obviously trying to hold back his laughter, and when Rex meets his gaze, it makes _him_ want to laugh.

_Fuck you, Cody._

“I,” Fox rounds on them, all anger and frustration, and Rex fights to keep a neutral expression. “Don’t see how this is _funny_. He’s the Chancellor of the fucking _Republic_ , you _di’kuts_. He kind of _owns_ us.”

“Oh, c’mon.” Cody finally says, walking over to lean against the disorganized clutter that could have passed for a desk once upon a time. “He doesn’t care.”

“Like hell he doesn’t.” Fox snapped, and Rex went quiet, taking in the bruise-like bags under his eyes and his significantly thinner frame. Which was usually not abnormal seeing as the Guard didn’t have to use _near_ as much brute force as their other brothers, with lithe, slim frames to fit more of a runner, but _still_. Fox’s self preservation skills were slim to none, and Rex looked up and found Cody’s eyes already on him, no doubt with the same thoughts. 

“So,” Cody began, but Fox cut him off with an eye roll. That had to be Wolffe, too.

“No, leave the shinies alone.”

“How _do_ you become a vet when you can’t even fight? Maybe _you’re_ shiny, Fox’ika. Hmm?”

“Cut it out. Someone has to do this job, not my fault none of you _karking_ _glory hounds_ volunteered.” Fox crossed his arms, regarded them both with a cool, calculated eye. “I know you didn’t come here to insult my competence, _vode_ , you wouldn’t waste the time. So what do you _di’kuts_ want?”

Before Cody can open his mouth and ruin any chances of civil conversation _further_ , Rex interjects, “Just checking in on you.”

Fox doesn’t move, his expression doesn’t change, he merely continues to stare. “Checking in...” He drawls, eyes flickering over at Cody. “On _me_.”

“Sure.” Rex shrugs. “You’re a bitch,”

“The _fuck_ -“

“But you’re still my _vod_. Right, Cody?” He raises an eyebrow at the commander in question, and Cody nods, giving Fox a sweet smile.

“‘Course. But we do need a favor.”

“Ah,” Fox doesn’t look surprised, not in the slightest, but there _is_ a flicker of _something_ that passes through his eyes, and Rex huffs and throws a dirty look Cody’s way. So tactless, to be one of the most tactical men he knows. “There it is. Why am I the person everyone goes to when they need something done illegally?”

“We didn’t say it was illegal.” Cody blurts, and Fox levels him with a look.

“It’s _always_ illegal. But lucky for you, I just so happen to be in a dangerously reckless mood, so let’s hear it.”

“We need surveillance footage.” Cody says softly, glancing at Fox’s open door warily. Fox is quiet for a moment, waiting with an expectant look on his face.

When Cody doesn’t continue, Fox snorts. “Surveillance from _where_ , _di’kut_? Do you know how much intelligence and footage is ran through here on the _daily_? A _lot_. A lot more than either of you can comprehend.”

“I need to get into the 228th’s destroyer’s old feed, maybe any private or encrypted comm calls that went out?” Rex explains, and when Fox starts shaking his head, he continues a little desperately, “It’s really important. Their Jedi’s been compromised, it’s _evidence_ that can find her guilty, vod.”

”It’s Pralua.” Cody adds.

Fox doesn’t look like he’s breathing, staring straight through him, then he blinks and glances over at Cody. “Three days.”

“What?”

Fox turns back to face Rex, expression carefully neutral. “I’ll need three days. With that much footage to comb through, on top of my normal duties, I’ll need three days. Minimum.”

“That’s- that’s doable, I think. Thank you, vod, I owe you.”

Fox doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. Rex counts it as one all the same. “I’ll remember that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of you that have motivation to update daily/weekly and have tons of inspiration, how does it feel to be Gods favorite? jk, but seriously, i aspire to be you, you’re amazing, i love you.
> 
> this is the chapter where we say “fuck canon” and i do what i want :) lmao but seriously y’all, it’s about to get a little _different_ up in here. like how the council isn’t a bunch of mindless dicks and they actually tell anakin their little plot, see how that works? good. also i’m very aware that the Resolute probably shouldn’t be kickin’ at this point, but i’m attached, don’t judge me lol
> 
> i AM super sorry these are taking me so long, but hopefully i can pick up the pace because i sat down and wrote out the entire plot, divided it by chapters, so now i have a rough outline of how i want this to go (says me, 16 chapters in lmao).
> 
> A past (or previous?? buckle up kids it’s gonna get bumpy) history with padme and anakin? heck yeah my dudes, i had to do something with her, it was too good to pass up. i don’t really have ahsoka in this but i may add her later, but it’s already so far gone now i don’t know lmao. 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! hopefully i’ll be able to finish up this next chapter faster, and hopefully it should be longer (so i say that every chapter? absolutely, but i can’t seem to get past 4.5k words and now it’s a personal challenge to exceed that). have an amazing day! <3


	17. lies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Until further evidence is provided, CT-7567 is considered MIA._

“Truth or dare.” Cody slurs, elbows planted firmly on the table in front of him, drink sloshing in his hand.

An equally drunk Fox narrows his eyes challengingly, but it makes him go cross eyed, and he ends up blinking rapidly to correct it. “Dare.”

Rex doesn’t know why Cody even bothers asking at this point, because wasted Fox was an absolute _monster_ , coupled with a grudge and something to prove despite his inability to see straight, and the answer was always glaringly obvious. “Cody,” He’s the more sober out of the four of them, and he raises an eyebrow at the commander. “Don’t.”

Bly had passed out about an hour ago, slumped in the booth with his head resting on his pauldron, and Fox would occasionally lean over to poke at his tattoos or to pinch his nose shut and watch the chaos it ensued. Rex almost feels sorry for him, but another look at the dozens of glasses scattered around their table changes that.

“I dare you,” Cody drawls, eyes flitting across 79’s until he spots one of his own men, a younger trooper that was currently ordering a drink with an innocent smile, and Cody’s grin was a warning in and of itself. “To go smack his ass, then kiss him.”

Fox blinks again, something he seems to do a lot when there’s more alcohol than common sense running through his system, before he slams his drink down. “Fine.” Getting out of the booth should have been hard with Bly’s body blocking the way, but Fox doesn’t seem to mind, clambering over him and uncaring if his boots clipped the other commander in the side.

There’s a certain walk that Fox does, Rex thinks as he watches him, the way he sways his hips, confident and entirely too sophisticated for someone so drunk, and he can practically feel Cody holding his breath.

“Wait for it...” The 212th commander breathes, eyes narrowed in concentration, and Rex almost feels sorry for the poor kid, because Commander Fox has been around the block, it seems. The ass slap wasn’t nearly as satisfying as Cody had originally planned, seeing as the trooper was wearing armor, but it _did_ get his attention. The surprise when he came face to face with a commander was almost enough to send Cody into a fit of laughter, but when Fox says something that looks suspiciously like “ _Can I kiss you?_ ” Rex feels a pang of pride. At least they’re not _all_ complete wrecks.

Of course, that sentiment is ruined when Fox preceded to practically _ravage_ the kid, licking into his mouth with a hand tangled into his hair, tugging and pulling at his armor with no clear goal in mind. Cody shakes his head. “Where do you think he learned to do that?”

“Not from any of _us_ , that’s for sure.”

Fox stumbles back over to their table a while later, satisfied smirk in place as he climbs back over Bly. “And you thought I wouldn’t.” Fox says ruefully.

Rex glances back over, and Cody’s trooper is still standing there, expression dazed, and he averts his gaze with a shake of his head. “I’m officially stopping you here. You’re done. Both of you.”

“Thanks for the effort, _mom_ , but fuck you.” Fox spits heatedly, lifting a glass and staring him dead in the eye before draining it. “Truth or die. I mean dare.”

“Look at yourself.” Cody says in mock disappointment. “Commander of the Coruscant Guard, and here you are. Absolutely _wasted_.”

“Am not!” Fox says indignantly, frowning and looking over to Rex. “Tell him I’m not wasted, Rex.”

“I’m not wasted.” Rex says, completely deadpan, and Fox gives him an unimpressed look.

Bly comes to with a groan. “Aayla?”

“Oh, this is fucking spectacular.” Fox says loudly, leaning back and crossing his arms, glaring at the three of them in turn. “Every _karking_ one of you are gone on your generals. Disgusting, the lot of you.”

“You’re just mad that the Chancellor looks like a grapes asshole.” Cody said ruthlessly, and Bly stared at him, wide-eyed and confused. Rex waved a hand in dismissal.

“Don’t ask, _vod_.”

“Ex _cuse_ you,” Fox slapped both hands on the table. “I don’t need a _Jetii_ ordering me around and telling me what to do. I bet they’re like that in bed, demanding little fuckers. No thank you.”

Cody shrugged. “Don’t ask _me_ , I’m having trouble getting into anyone’s bed.”

“Aayla isn’t like that, she-“

“No one fucking asked you, Bly.” Fox said tiredly, and Bly opened his mouth with a frown before shutting it again. “You want a gold star or something? Jeez.”

“What about you?” Cody pointed a finger at Rex, but it ended up directed a ways off to his left. “You’re the one with _Skywalker_.”

Bly jerked his head up, but swayed at the action, nearly colliding with Fox. “ _What_? You managed to get _Skywalker_?”

“Managed?” Rex asks dryly, but Bly ignores him.

“He’s like- every trooper’s wet dream. Besides the fact that he could probably crush us all without so much as lifting a finger.”

“So attractive,” Fox drawls with an eye roll. “You’re all kriffing insane.”

Rex’s comlink suddenly flashes, and he answers it on reflex. “Rex.”

“ _Rex_ ,” At Skywalker’s voice, Bly bit his lip and slapped at Fox’s arm excitedly, much to the other commanders chagrin. “ _Something’s... something’s happened. We need you and Cody back at the barracks ASAP. I’ll explain there_.”

Rex frowned but stood almost immediately. “I’m on my way, sir.”

“ _I’ll see you there_.”

When he finally cut the connection, he realized how quiet it had gotten. Then, finally, Fox was the one to speak. “What the hells is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully, and he grabs Cody’s arm to haul him out of the booth. “But we need to go, see you guys later?”

“Deployed.” Bly chimes blandly from where he’s sat rubbing his temples, but Fox nods.

“Sure. Just tell me when.”

Rex almost loses his hold on Cody twice in the crowd as they make their way for the door, but then they’re finally out, the open air much more _breathable_ , and he pauses, gathering his bearings for a moment, Cody leaned up against his side. But it still doesn’t help unravel the icy _dread_ that lingers in his gut.

* * *

Jesse whistles, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head with a smirk. “Don’t you look absolutely stunning, vod?”

“Shove it up your ass.” Echo snaps sourly, bandaged leg held protectively high as he hobbled to a bunk, wincing at the pull on freshly healed skin. “That all you have to say? Didn’t you miss me?”

“Not our fault you look like shit.” Reka chimes unhelpfully, and Echo throws him a crude gesture over his shoulder before collapsing onto the cheap mattress.

“Gods I missed this.”

“Your bunk or my- _truthful_ \- insults?”

Echo’s brows furrowed. “Im still in ARC berthing, and we still have better bunks than you. What’re you-“ He cuts himself off when Jesse leans over to poke at the gauze curiously, and he huffs. “Stop it.”

“Can you move it?” Reka asks, equally as fascinated, and Echo groans.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that? I’m cleared in a few days for active duty, so just- _Ow_ , what the _fuck_?”

Jesse hums. “Yep. He can still feel his toes.”

Reka shuffles closer. “What about-“

“Oi.” Fives has a datapad in hand, and he flips it around to show the training schedule. His CT number was scrawled at the top, indicating that he was the instructor, and Jesse hisses and scrambles away.

“Fuck,” He whispers harshly, pressing the heel of his palm into his eyes and exhaling hard. Reka frowns, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Fives grins, tossing the ‘pad onto the bunk before sitting. “I’m just in charge of training tomorrow.”

“Kriffing nightmare.” Jesse moans, but jerks when Kix throws a gauntlet at him.

“Suck it up. Are you a man or a womprat?”

Jesse huffs indignantly. “A man.”

The medic hums cryptically, not even looking up from his report. “Good, then act like one.”

Fives clears his throat, and Echo looks over at him questioningly. “Sitrep?”

Echo lifts his leg demonstratively. “Broken fibula, tibia, dislocated ankle at the growth joint, some scraped cartilage, damaged nerves.” He hesitates, glancing over to make sure the others were occupied before pulling down the collar of his blacks to reveal the still raw skin beneath. “Couple burns. Nothing they can’t stitch back together.”

Fives stares at him. “A couple burns?”

Echo is very aware of how he looks, knows that burns as severe as his leave a mark, but it still causes a tendril of shame to wrap around and _squeeze_. He looks away. “I’m fine. I can train.”

“You can’t even _walk_ -“

“I _can_.” Echo snaps, and his hand twitches from where it lays across his stomach. Then, softer. “I can. Promise.”

“He can.” Kix suddenly says, nodding and looking between the two. “Running is out of the question, obviously, but he’s had _weeks_ to heal up. He should be fine.”

“So what, he just stands there while we have to do laps?” Jesse says sourly, and Fives suddenly grins.

Echo knows why, too, when the next day, his arms shake as he does his hundredth push-up.

A hundred more to go.

“This is abuse.” Echo manages to pant out, sweat running into his eye, and he blinks furiously. One of the vode jogging by laughs and offers a breathless “ _you can do it, brother_ ”. Fives barely even looks in his direction.

“Was that a negative comment, trooper?”

Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, Echo lowers again, hissing quietly when his skin stretches uncomfortably. It stings, but he doesn’t dare say it aloud. Fives wouldn’t let him so much as look at the gym again if he did. “No, _sir_.”

Fives doesn’t respond, but after a long moment of silence, he finally speaks. “You can take your uppers off, you know.”

Arms burning and threatening to give, Echo grits his teeth and forces his quivering muscles to continue on, glancing over at Fives quickly before focusing back on the mat in front of him. “No,” The image of his pink, raw skin as he’d looked in the ‘fresher’s mirror flashes before his eyes. Showing that to _Fives_? Hell no. “I’m fine.”

Fives shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

They’re almost done when they get the announcement. Echo guesses they just aren’t important enough to get told in person, and he sees the other vode look down at their comms in similar states of distress.

Jesse jogs over, uncharacteristically somber as he holds up his comm. “Do you believe this?”

Fives snorts, staring down at his own wrist with a slightly dazed expression. “It’s from General Skywalker. Why would it _not_ be true.”

The rest of the troopers were still, watching Fives with dark, solemn eyes until he dismissed them. The walk back to their quarters was a quiet one.

* * *

Standing in front of his men and informing them that their general- _Obi-Wan_ , was dead is one of the hardest things Cody has ever done. He can see it all on their faces, disbelief, sorrow, pity, anger, and the _fear_... Cody wants to tell them that everything will be okay, but he _can’t_.

“ _Cody_.”

If they’re not assigned a new Jedi, they’ll be lucky if they’re not dispersed to different battalions that need replacements. It’s a grim outcome, but a likely one.

“ _You’re a good soldier, Cody, and an even better man_.”

It goes by in a blur, after that. He mourns, he doesn’t- doesn’t necessarily _cry_ , because Obi-Wan was nothing but a general and a friend, that was _it_ , so he ignores the way it stings, says his name every night, and every morning he picks himself back up and tries to hold their- _his_ restless battalion together. And he does an admirable job, too. He thinks General Kenobi would have been proud.

“ _You’re invaluable to me, Commander, I don’t know what I’d do without you_.”

They can’t go to his funeral, so the vode have a gathering of their own, just them crowded into a briefing room swapping stories until they finally fall silent, the absence of Obi-Wan even more apparent in the face of it. Boil even comes up to wrap him in a hug, and Cody pretends that it doesn’t make something inside him ache. He smiles, thanks him, and nods at the others as they leave.

They’re given, however temporarily, to Skywalker, moved to the _Negotiator_ where they won’t be in anybody’s way. The younger Jedi doesn’t seem negatively effected at all by his former Master’s death, operating at his normal efficiency as he gives them small, minuscule orders. Cody envies that.

“ _Dear One_.”

When he goes to him to for his signature on a new shipment of crates, Skywalker blinks, eyes wide as he stares down at the blank space before he finally scrawls his signature quickly. He looks almost- regretful, guilty, but Cody had brushed it off.

Looking back, he supposes that his behavior was an indicator as to the truth of Obi-Wan’s whereabouts, but it’s too late now.

“ _You have my trust_.”

He’s already mourned, already missed him, already broke his own heart so many fucking times that he can’t even feel the smallest twinge of joy when he hears that High Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi was in fact alive. And returning to active duty effective immediately.

Cody had no time to prepare, doesn’t even have time to get his men together for the Jedi’s boarding. One minute Kenobi isn’t there and the next he is, walking the halls and acting as if nothing was amiss.

He had more than one trooper at his door, nearly breathless as they told him “ _the general’s back, sir!_ ” and he always smiled just for their sake before nodding and going back to his work. Cody doesn’t seek him out, would rather kiss plasma than face the ~~liar~~ general, so he remains in his quarters, reading and rereading the same report with unseeing eyes.

In the end, the general makes it easy for him, showing up outside his quarters and requesting entrance. Like he actually has a choice in the matter, like he could say _no_.

He wishes now more than ever that he could.

* * *

Obi-Wan knew that the ones closest to him would take his death hard, knew that the men would be confused but would ultimately understand that casualties in a war were to be expected. They would mourn, move on, and then ultimately forgive them. It was in their nature.

He just hasn’t expected Cody to _punish_ himself for his death.

As soon as his commander’s door slides up to reveal the small quarters within, Obi-Wan freezes.

Cody wasn’t looking at him, eyes still kept stubbornly on the datapad in front of him as he sat at the small, ramshackle desk that Obi-Wan himself had smuggled in, form rigid and hand clenched desperately around the stylus he held.

But it’s the dark, almost bruise-like bags under his eyes, how gaunt and drawn his face was, the red-rimmed eyes, the _indifference_ that gave him pause. Cody was nothing if not a practical commander, always at his best, always giving _Obi-Wan_ his best, and to see him so vulnerable and _hurting_ was surreal.

“May I come in?” His voice was still rough, throat still raw, and Cody flinches, a small thing, before he gives a jerky nod.

“Yes, sir.”

There’s not another chair, and Obi-Wan had always sat on Cody’s bunk, but he feels that such an action would not be welcome given the circumstances. “Cody, I just wanted t-“

“There’s a memorial for you in the hangar.” Cody interrupts, jaw clenched, still scanning over the report as if he was mentioning something as casual as the weather. “Nothing special, but the boys used their paint. Shinies gave theirs up, too. Worked on it for days.”

There’s only the faintest slip of anger before it’s gone, and Obi-Wan hovers awkwardly. “Cody, it was _confidential_. No one could know.”

Then the anger flares, bright and powerful, and Obi-Wan winces before throwing up his shields. Cody’s voice is purposefully even when he responds. “We don’t have much, sir, but we gave what we had, all pitched in to make it look fitting of our Jedi.”

“It was out of my hands.” Obi-Wan tries, and the stylus creaks in Cody’s hand. “Cody, I’m sorry, I _do_ trust you, with my _life_ , and if I could have, you would’ve been the first to know.”

Cody was shaking, he realizes, so finely that it was barely perceptible from how hard he was fighting it, and his inhale was somewhat less put together than the rest of his facade. “What do you want, General?”

“Don’t do that.” Obi-Wan said softly, inching closer until he was by his side, uncertain as to how to proceed. “I just started to get you calling me Obi-Wan.”

“You died.” Comes the blunt response, and Obi-Wan frowns. Cody’s agitation only grows, until he’s slamming both datapad and stylus down in order to get to his feet. “Do you not _understand_ that? You’re our _Jedi_ , the one we’re supposed to trust with our lives and you _lied_. It felt _wrong_ , sir, _I’m_ supposed to be the one to die before you. _For_ you, so stop acting like- like you didn’t _violate_ the only Code we know.”

There’s a tense silence that falls over them at that. Slowly, Obi-Wan reaches up, waiting for a harsh word or a firm hand to stop him, and when he receives none, he lays just the tips of his fingers against Cody’s forehead.

Cody doesn’t fight him, not necessarily, but the steady flow of emotions are kept in check, and the root of Cody’s frustrations and anger hidden. It isn’t until he gently taps his index finger in a silent question that Cody relents.

Cody’s mind, his _feelings_ , were completely and utterly overwhelming. The anger, the pain, the hurt, the betrayal, the fear and worry all seemed to rush at him all at once, and the last to come, more reluctantly-

He pulls away, fingers burning and mind numb. The newfound knowledge has him slow, shocked, and he tries to gather his thoughts. “That’s...“

“Inappropriate, sir. You... shouldn’t have seen that. I’m sorry.” Cody’s disgust, his _resignation_ was palpable, his eyes trained on nothing in particular, anywhere but Obi-Wan, and the Jedi sighs. Cody’s pulse spikes at the sound.

“Cody.” He waits until the trooper finally looks at him, and the shame and guilt in his eyes would almost be amusing if he didn’t look so much like a kicked Tooka. “I’m... going to try something, is that alright? Just stop me if you’re uncomfortable.”

Cody’s eyes widen as Obi-Wan steps even closer, placing a hand on his chest before leaning up, pausing when their lips are just scant inches away before finally closing the distance between them.

Yes, Obi-Wan has kissed before, but it’s different with _Cody_ , suddenly that much more electrifying, and when his commander’s lips part in surprise, his tongue darts out to lick inside tentatively, only continuing when Cody lets out a low groan.

He only pulls away when he remembers why he’s here in the first place, but Cody’s hands on his hips keep him from going far. “Forgive me. For everything.”

Cody was still staring at his lips, but his eyes flickered up to meet his gaze at that, eyes dark and sincere. “Don’t ever do that again. Please.”

And instead of answering, Obi-Wan drags him down into another kiss.

* * *

Rex supposes that he brought it upon himself, because he’s never one to shy away from the truth, and the fact of the matter is that he was distracted.

Coruscant is not the type of place to get distracted in, and he knows that, but knowing and doing are two very different things. He’d just been so _angry_ , because Anakin _lied_ , lied to all of them, had watched Cody waste away to nothing and hadn’t had the decency to even come clean to save him the pain. To save _Rex_ the pain of watching his ori’vod deteriorate before his very eyes.

Rex had thought he was lucky, still being on Coruscant and all, because it had given him an opportunity to clear his head and get away before he said something he would regret. He wishes he’d stayed, now.

He should’ve kept his helmet on. That was his first thought, when something struck him across the head so hard that it had his knees buckling, the ground rushing up to meet him. His helmet clacks somewhere off to the side from where it had rested against his hip, a dull noise just above the ringing in his ears, and he feels blood trickle down his neck. His vision was blurry, pain spiking and spreading throughout his skull, and he barely has time to draw in a breath before there’s hands on him, jerking his arms behind his back and shoving something over his head.

He’d laugh at how crazy it all was if he wasn’t so fucking scared.

As it is, his limbs are still hesitant to obey his brain’s frantic commands, and by the time he kicks out to defend himself, he’s being dragged towards an unknown destination, thoroughly subdued with no chance of escape.

His attackers say nothing, silent beside him, and then there’s a subtle shift in the air. Barely noticeable, just a slight change in sound, and he realizes they’re heading lower. The fear was back, creeping in and holding on, impossible to shake, and Rex tensed in their hold.

The lower levels were notorious for drug rings and trafficking, he would know, because Fox always talked about it, his expression haunted as he recalled the gruesome details of his escapades. He hopes- _prays_ it’s not trafficking. He doesn’t think he’d have the strength to come back from that, if they ever did find him.

There’s a soft sound, cloth against cloth before he’s suddenly dropped, and with no way to support himself, he lands flat on his face, his nose stinging from the impact. “Kriffing-“

A sharp kick to his leg, and he falls silent all too willingly. There’s a ship nearby, he hadn’t noticed it before, but the soft hum of it’s engine betrays it’s location, and he tenses further when he hears the hiss of a ramp lowering. He thinks of Anakin, the last words they’d said to each other- his battalion and the war, General Kenobi being alive, and, with renewed vigor, he starts struggling to his feet.

“Quiet, clone.” Someone hisses lowly, and he’s shoved back onto his _shebse_ unceremoniously, one of his legs straining awkwardly from where it’s trapped beneath him, still too sluggish from the hit to the head to cause much of a fuss.

“You’re making a mistake.” Rex says, and he can’t see the blow coming, unable to brace for the impact, and his head is thrown to the side at the force of it.

“I believe I requested it _intact_ , gentlemen.” Rex freezes, and there’s a barked laugh at his reaction before Ventress continues. “But Skywalker’s? My my, you’ve outdone yourselves.”

One of his attackers scoffs. “Pain in the ass, is what he is.” A not so subtle jab at his shin. “What do you need him for, anyway?”

With his sight gone he’s completely vulnerable to attack, unable to defend himself and comm for help, and he tries to draw his knees up in a vain attempt at shielding himself.

_How could I be so stupid?_

He’s all too familiar with the sting of rejection, the agony of defeat, but the shame of being caught alive, especially in the Heart of the Republic, causes his head to drop instinctively, embarrassment making his body flush hot all over. Some captain he is.

He briefly thinks of Wolffe’s eye, the long, jagged scar across it, and he decides that snapping at Ventress, however satisfying, wouldn’t be tolerated. He’s not Jango, a viscously competent _jetii_ killer, he doesn’t have the strength of his brothers to draw from, doesn’t have his Jedi beside him. He’s alone. Defenseless. _Weak_.

And completely at the assassin’s mercy. Rex hadn’t even realized she’d moved forward until there was a pressure on his armor, pulling straps and tugging it away, and his head jerks up so fast the world tilts on its axis. “What-“

“There are many uses for a clone,” Ventress says distractedly, and when he’s left in nothing but his blacks, he feels her step away. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his skin tingling and hyper aware of his disarmed state. “Bring him on board.”

* * *

**SCRAMBLE LINE ENCRYPTED**

**STAND BY STAND BY**

**RESOLUTE FORWARD CONTROL TO ALL REPUBLIC VESSELS.**

**CT-7567 HAS BEEN COMPROMISED, COMMENCE WITH EMERGENCY ACTION CODE B9. REPEAT, COMMENCE WITH EMERGENCY ACTION CODE B9. DELAY ALL ATTACKS WITH STRATEGIC ANALYSIS FROM CT-7567 AND/OR EMERGENCY ACCESS CODES IN USE.**

**CONTINUE SOP.**

**OUT.**

* * *

_To: Officer Commanding SO BDE, HQ Coruscant: CO Resolute._

_From: CO Republic Guard of Coruscant._

_I regret to inform you that the search for CT-7567’s remains has proven to be unsuccessful. Coruscant Traffic Control noted a particularly sudden departure of shuttle NUZ846/2 but has yet to investigate further. Discarding of armor roused suspicion of desertion when CT-7567’s comlink and helmet were recovered by evening patrol, but all accusations have been belayed due to insufficient findings. Until further evidence is provided, CT-7567 is considered MIA._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m jumping all over the fucking timeline here and i was going to do the kadavo arc but nah i had to be extra dramatic for personal reasons. we ARE getting dangerously close to the conspiracy arc though, but it’s going to have a twist in it too purely for my own enjoyment lmao.
> 
> also? 17 chapters in and codywan finally gets their shit together? i think yes. 
> 
> now. explanation time. ventress just needed a clone to get information/intelligence from, she wasn’t specifically targeting Rex. purely coincidence my dudes.
> 
> i’m super pumped for the next chapter so it should be up within the week! thank you for reading! have an amazing day lovelies <3

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, lovelies ;) Next chapter will be up soon!


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